Patchwork Paternal
by slytherin-mafia
Summary: Combine the Following: 1 desperate Lily Potter, 1 Disgruntled Gundam Builder, 5 Clueless Gundam Pilots, and 1 at War Wizarding World. Shake well. Yields: 1 paternally Patchworked Harry Potter. For a spicier kick, add 1 Goblin King, and blend well.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Patchwork Paternal**

**Author: Slytherin Mafia**

**Summary- Combine the Following: 1 desperate Lily Potter, 1 Disgruntled Gundam Builder, 5 Clueless Gundam Pilots, and 1 at War Wizarding World. Shake well. Yields: 1 paternally Patchworked Harry Potter. For a Spicier Kick, add one Goblin King and stir until well Blended  
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**Rating: T to M (MA) in later chapters**

**Pairings: None to speak of. There may be a few in and out in much later chapters, but this is more of a family fic than a relationship one. **

**AN-This is a plot bunny from Ammie Hawke. I cannot claim ownership or creation of the plot. She is also writing a version, so be sure to take a look at it when it is posted. **

**I would also like to add that the relationship between Jareth and the Goblins, while not fully explained in this chapter, is credited directly to Ru and used with permission. Her stories can be found under profile, and I HIGHLY recommend Fallout from the War. It is absolutely amazing! Go check it out  
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**Disclaimer-I own nothing. Anything not recognized as the property of Bandai or J.R. Rowling is most likely my creation. Please do not use them without permission. **

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Chapter One

Dr. M, Dr. Michaels as the employees of this piss poor clinic in the backwoods of the Universe called him, gritted his teeth and bit back a furious groan as his nurse escorted yet another crying patient out of the exam room, the latest in a long line of his failures to complete his experiment.

He slammed a hand against the metal cabinet next to his head as the door closed, cursing and doing a mental inventory of the supplies he had left.

He only had enough for one more test subject, and this one would have to be chosen carefully. He was not going to let this experiment fail. He had gone through too much trouble, getting close again to those traitors, getting the materials, tracking down the original donors.

It was too much work for him to let it fail.

He would get back at those haughty bastards if it was the last thing he did.

This would be the perfect way to do it, at least in his revenge-twisted brain. He turned around and headed towards his office door, slamming it open and not caring what it hit on the other side, even as a trophy from long ago medical school fell and shattered on the ground.

Dr. M paced back and forth across the rather small office, his hands clenched behind his back.

What to do, what to do?

He had to find the perfect subject, that much was clear. The other subjects hadn't been compatible with the strange energy readings the specimen gave off, and that was obviously the reason that the experiment had failed each and every time.

He had to find someone who matched the specimen, and he would have to be extremely careful with the selection process. He only had one left, only one, and if the carrier's body rejected it, his work was over.

But where to begin?

He made one last circuit of the space, his mind whirring faster than most would think possible.

He had no idea, and that made him angrier than he would like.

He couldn't afford to lose his temper, and let anger guide his actions and choices. The office had been a mistake, one that he would not repeat.

SLAM

He rolled his eye and straightened up as the hammer handed knock of his senior nurse, and the only member of the staff that knew what he was up to, came on his door again.

He wouldn't keep her waiting, Katara could be quite the impatient one when she wanted to be, especially when she knew she had his manhood in a vice grip. One mention of his little experiment to the medical board, or OZ, would have his science terminated, and him exterminated.

He would have to take care of her soon; he couldn't risk news of this getting out.

But until he succeeded, he would have to put up with her.

She was fairly efficient as a nurse, either way it went.

"Dr. Michaels," She pushed the door open just as he reached it, narrowly missing his nose. By the smirk on her face, she had planned it that way. "You have a patient waiting."

He nodded, forcing a smile on his face.

"Thank you Nurse Ratchet." She frowned at the barb, but didn't say anything, just moved out of the way as he headed out of the room.

But she would get him back for it; he had no doubts about that.

Michaels walked into the patient waiting room, plastering his "I'm just a helpful physician, you can trust me' grin on his face, but almost lost it when he caught site of the woman sitting in one of the red vinyl chairs, her feet crossed at the ankles, tearing a tissue to pieces in her hands. She had the look of a woman defeated, as if despite her well to do clothes and meticulously styled hair, her money had failed to buy her the one thing that she wanted most in the world.

He normally would have passed over her as just another rich broad that he could milk to fund his real passion, but the energy.

By God the energy that was pouring off of her in almost physical waves was astonishing.

She had to be the one. She was the only one who had even come close to matching the readings he'd gotten.

The only one who made the hair on his arms stand on end.

He smiled, more genuine, more predatory, and outstretched his hand. She stood up, seemingly just noticing his entrance, and pasted on a wane smile of her own. Clearly, she wasn't happy that this was her last resort, but she knew that she had no other choice.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Michaels." She gave his hand a quick shake, and moved it back into the protection of her folded arms, the shredded tissue held tightly in her other. "Nurse Conners didn't give me your name? Seems you didn't make an appointment.

"Lily Potter." She gave a teary sniffle, "It's only in the last three days that I found I would need your...services. I'm afraid, with the journey between Earth and the...Colonies I didn't have time to make an appointment." Lily hugged herself tighter, and reached out to bridge the space between them, placing a hand gently on her arm.

If this was going to work, he would have to move carefully. He knew, without a doubt, that if she knew what he was planning she wouldn't agree to it.

No sane woman would. After all, this was not why they came to see him.

She flinched back from his hand for a second, but he left it in place and she slowly eased into it.

"Well, no matter. I just happen to have a spot free. Lets get you back to you the back and see what's going on, alright? I promise I'll do my best to help."

Help him, anyway. She would have what she wanted, at least to her knowledge; none of his patients did genetic tests after they visited him. Most of them didn't want to know one way or the other. They were too afraid to find out that it was too good to be true, and that suited him just fine.

She nodded, and followed him almost eagerly.

He was her only hope. Michaels and Andrews, sounding more like a law office than a medical practice, was the only practice on Earth or the Colonies that did what she needed, so she didn't have much choice but to put her hope in him.

Lily hopped up on the exam table when he motioned, fingering something in her pocket, while he moved around the room picking up items that he needed, stepping nimbly over the broken remnant of his last temper tantrum, a broken frame that he hadn't noticed the first time around, subtly pulling out an energy reader. He twirled a few dials, pulling up the last energy reading from his remaining sample, and turned back towards her, his almost manic smile still in place.

"Just have to get a few readings, dear, and then we'll be ready to get started. You understand you will have to make at least one more visit, correct?" Preferably more, if he was going to get the readings he wanted.

After that, she could do whatever the hell she wanted with it, but he had to know if his work was worth it.

But, he shook his head, it would be worth it, and he would be successful. There was no other choice.

He ran the monitor over her, almost dancing in excitement when the readings came up almost an exact match to the sample. He gave her a reassuring smile as she flinched back from the machine, and almost immediately leaned back into it, as if she had forgotten what a medical visit entailed. He covered the frown.

No one on Earth made a visit to a doctor's office without some kind of a machine being involved, and hand held scanners were becoming more and more popular. They let you get the most accurate readings of a patient's health.

Satisfied, he pulled a stool over with his foot and sat down in front of her, prepared to lend an ear to her plight, while providing all the medical expertise that he could.

She eagerly began spinning her tale, most of it clearly false, but he listened anyway. She was seemingly desperate for someone to understand why she was doing what she was doing, and it erased all the common sense and gut instinct that she had, in an effort for comfort that she wasn't getting anywhere else.

It would be years before anyone realized her mistake, and far too late.

* * *

**Ten Years Later**

**Colony L4**

**2:54 PM **

"02, see if you can find anything in that office we passed on the way out. If anything was being concealed, it would be there." 05's voice crackled in and out on the radio, and Duo rolled his eyes, slapping the radio in his left hand.

All the money in the damn universe, and L4's radio signals were the worst in the entire ESUN. No matter what frequency was used, there was always some kind of interference that no one could figure out.

It drove Quatre batshit, on many occasions, as was one of the few things that even Heero, the great Perfect Soldier himself, ribbed the blond pilot about.

"Copy that 05. Will do." The braided pilot turned around and started picking his way through the debris that was once some kind of medical practice, way before, probably before the War even started, kicking various papers and scorched pieces of wood out of his way as he moved, stopping to pick curiously at the few papers he found lying here and there. He found nothing of interest, just some random parts of patient files that were half burned to a crisp.

Until he got to the office.

As he levered the door opening, knowing that he'd have a pretty big bruise the next morning from forcing his shoulder against it, he hoped that this was going to be an easy mission to finish up. It was only because Une was pissed off at them that they even had this salvage job to begin with.

Kicking aside the boxes and bits of chair that had somehow survived the bomb shock wave, he looked around the office curiously.

It was mostly intact. Which was odd, because he knew for a fact that none of the buildings on this side of the colony were reinforced with anything. This was the 'poorer' side of L4, if there even was such a thing, so this room should have been as leveled as the rest of the block.

But it wasn't, and he was even able to sit down on the leaning desk chair, tilting himself so that he didn't fall out and bounce across the floor. A quick tug on the desk drawer proved it to be locked, and he grinned to himself.

Lock picking, he could do. Duo reached a hand up to his braid and pulled out a hair pin. Kneeling down, he stuck it into the lock and began twiddling it around, turning it until he felt the lock give. With a triumphant cry he jumped back into the seat and yanked it open, pulling out the folders and flicking through them.

"Boring, boring, boring, GROSS, boring, boring bo...wait a minute." He sat up, flipping the folder that caught his interest open and beginning to pour over it. It didn't have a name, like the rest of the files did, just an odd "Subject 17".

It was a bare bones file, just two sheets of typed paper containing vital stats, a brief physical description, and a quick personal note from the Doctor at the end…

This was where he turned, his eyes narrowing as he read.

"Subject 17 is very promising. After our first meeting, I have determined that she is the ideal subject, and most likely chance of success. Second Meeting scheduled for next Tuesday. Further notes will be held in patients locked file for confidentiality reasons." Duo's eyebrows rose. He got a sense of sick glee from the doctor's note, and found it odd that there was a second confidential patient file. Did the Doctor think that there was a leak in his office, one of the many moles from OZ sending confidential information to the big wigs back on Earth, looking for possible 'health issues' or people who meet certain physical requirements for certain top secret projects.

02 doubted it, and began his search for the second file. This doctor was up to no good, and the things he could have gotten away with, considering his line of work, there were possible security and public health risks walking around out there right now, completely unaware of the threat they posed to the ESUN, because Duo highly doubted if their parents disclosed such...potentially embarrassing information.

He leaned back in the chair, folded his hands behind his head, and just stared around the office, examining every nook and cranny with his eyes, trying to decide the best place to start his search.

Clearly this man was intelligent, he'd made it through Doctors Training after all, and so he wouldn't have picked an obvious place to hide such a private file.

But where?

'This would be easier if this place hadn't been hit by a bomb' he thought to himself, seeing and dismissing several places where the wall could separate as fissures left by the blast.

Unfortunately that was all of them, and he was left just staring into space.

Where else was there? The book shelves had long since toppled over, broken in pieces over the ground, and the rest of the drawers were wide open, only the one that was locked still in one piece.

This his eyes lit on the globe leaning haphazardly against the one intact corner.

His dismissed it at first, as too cliché to actually be a choice, but there were no other options. He stood up to check it out, clicking his radio on.

"05, I've got something interesting in this office. I'm going to check it out," there was a moment of static before Wufei got to him.

"What is it 02? I want to get out of here" Duo cracked a grin at the exasperated tone in his friends voice, content in the knowledge that for once it wasn't his screw up that had gotten them a shit assignment.

"Not sure yet, but the Commander will kill us if we don't check it out." He reached a hand out and gave the globe a spin, watching it turn absently.

"Alright 02, but make it quick." He snorted, but agreed. He was pretty sure that if Wufei had to stay here much longer, the Chinese Pilot was going to be after him, and this time really coming for the braid.

"Understood." He spun the globe one more time, eying the crease as it turned slowly, trying to find the catch to open it up. As it passed his trained eye, he reached out a hand and stopped it mid spin, pulling the lid up as smoothly as possible.

There was a treasure trove of files, thrown haphazardly on top of each other. He pulled them out, searching through them for 17. The previous file had said she was the 'ideal' subject, so clearly these others had been failures. Pressed for time, he would have to put those back for when they got back to the office. But he could at least find out if dragging them along for the return trip would be worth it.

He had just gotten to the file in question, trying to read it while balancing the rest in his arms, when the sounds of explosions reached his ears. He dropped everything he held and yanked out his radio.

"05! Status!" He waited with bated breath for his partner to get back to him, cursing. He couldn't risk running out into the ruins, not knowing what the threat was or where it was from. But if Wufei didn't answer, then all bets were off, danger be damned. They had not survived a war to die on a salvage mission they shouldn't be on in the first place. "05!" If it wasn't against every instinct in him, he would have called Wufei every name he had ever come up with, but at the moment, it was too dangerous. Their identities were still closely guarded government secrets, and to use real names over the radio was an insane thought. One that Heero would filet him for, partner in danger or not.

It was a few minutes of pure hell until Wufei came back, sounded winded but alive.

"I'm Fine 02. Just some neighborhood punks deciding to shoot up empty buildings." The disgust was plain in his voice, and Duo held back a snicker as he bent over to scoop up his dropped files, "I showed them the...error, of their ways." For all his talk about Honor, Wufei was as much of a pilot as the rest of them, and would not keep from reminding everyone of that fact. It made Duo sad, sometimes, to know that what they had gone through had put as much of, maybe more of, a mark on the Chinese pilot as it had anyone else.

Wufei, more than the rest of them, had been brought up in a culture that prided themselves on Honor, and Justice, even to dying when they had sullied their honor. It was the reason they had accepted him back so freely after his little jaunt to the dark side, when anyone else who did it, would have been drawn and quartered. Trowa was still paying for it, though subtly, and he was really on their side.

Of course the fact that he was the baby of group had nothing to do with it.

Much, anyway.

"Good. I've got all I need, I'm heading to your position." he left it hanging, having no idea where the other man had ended up. Making sure the folders he wanted were tucked safely inside his jacket, the black material zipped over it he picked his way through the debris again, and towards the hallway.

"I'm outside, had to chase the little bastards. They were packing some hardware too" his voice sounded confused, and Duo picked up his pace, moving quicker through the ruined halls with his gun out. Where the roof had dropped out, been blown out, he hung to the shadows, slipping through them like he wasn't even there. Gangs they may be, but that didn't mean that had to be smart. Even a smart gang banger wasn't any trouble for a trained Gundam pilot, but that didn't mean that they couldn't be dropped on.

He was almost disappointed when he got to the outside without anyone trying anything. Wufei was leaning against the outside of the building, his arms crossed and kicking at the rubble at his feet. He looked every inch the bored teenager without a care in the world, but the black uniform with the Preventors Logo blazoned on the left shoulder, and the .10mm in his left hand gave it away.

This teen was dangerous, and would kill you if given the chance. He tightened his pose when he caught the site and sound of Duo moving into his personal space, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Took you long enough." He smirked, his face looking far too old for his age. Duo was certain that was the ponytail, and he was glad that it was only on mission when the other boy wore it up now. Of course, they were all too old to be called boys, or even teens, most 22 year olds would get rather upset if they were referred to as teens, but the pilots loved it. The younger they looked, the younger they could pull off acting, the more missions they could pull off that other agents couldn't. Of course, the skills they had obtained pulled them ahead of the pack as well.

"Sorry, someone" he shot a sardonic look at the other pilot, "scared the hell out of me and I couldn't leave my position."

Wufei chuckled and pushed himself full standing, heading towards his partner, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"We need to go. This place is nothing but a graveyard." He walked off without another glance back, Duo following with a shrug.

What did he care?

* * *

***Goblin Castle**

**Underground**

**Same Day***

Jareth, The Goblin King for the last eight hundred years, was not a reasonable man. He wasn't a nice man, and wasn't pleasant to be around.

But he prided himself on being a good King. No matter what the Above-grounders thought, about how he stole children and turned them into Goblins, about how he let his kingdom descend into chaos and disorder without a clear ruler, he just let it roll off him.

He knew the truth. Fae were the embodiment of chaos. They weren't happy little fairies, or whatever nonsense the mortals, magical and mundane, had come up with over the years, they were the embodiment of chaos. He gave his people what they needed to thrive, and that was all he needed to know.

He was content and smiling as he walked through the halls of his castle, absentmindedly kicking at the hobgoblins that were scrabbling on the floor like dogs. The children stopped in their fight, and looked at him, eyes going wide when they saw who it was that had chastised them. They jumped to their feet, tucking their hands behind their backs and toeing the ground, looking up at him through bangs of greasy hair. He studied them for a moment, enjoying the opportunity to connect with his rather amusing subjects.

"Aren't you two supposed to be in school?" It was only just passed noon, and while the Underground didn't employ the same system as the Above-grounders did, education in vital areas was very important to everyone in the Labyrinth. If it wasn't, they would be no better than those vile Gorgons to the East, and he didn't think he could take it if he had to sit a Council Meeting and listen to that snake witch gloat about her subjects.

The two little hobgoblins just nodded.

"We're sorry your Majesty. But school is just so boring! And all Madame Layla talks about is the old revolutions. Like they matter anymore." Jareth frowned, crossing his arms and staring down at them.

"I'll have you know that Madame Layla has the right of things. The Revolutions were a horrible time in the Labyrinth, until my father finally lead our people out of bloodshed and instituted the bonds of Fealty that keep us as peace. You must study them, so as to not fall under the spells of mortals in the future." He smirked, "Clearly, the good Madame hasn't gotten that through your heads. I'll have to make sure that she gives you two troublemakers extra lessons, unless you promise me you'll take your studies more seriously."

They nodded quickly, hair flopping back and forth like wigs.

"Yes Your Majesty! We promise! We'll go rejoin the class right now!" They began backing up, and he smirked again. The young ones were the most fun to mess with; he knew that creating a relationship now would make his rule easier in the future.

"Remember, what's said, is said. Madame Layla better have two, eager, students in her class the rest of your studies. Understood?" They nodded again, almost bouncing to get away from him. He smiled, "Then scat. Do not let me catch you skipping out again, or I'll hang you over the Bog for days."

They were gone in the time it took him to blink, and he continued on his way to the Throne Room. It had been cleaned over the last three months, under the watchful eye of his chief housekeeper.

After that incident with the mortal who had gotten a hold of that Damned book his grandfather had written, and tied him into playing out a child's fantasy. For some odd reason, that had involved his Throne Room being invaded by chickens of all things, and the worst members of his kingdom that could be found.

He didn't understand why his grandfather had created that book, and he had thought he'd 'acquired' all the ones that had been left in the mortal world years ago. He had quite the nasty surprise when the magic tied to the manuscript had suddenly kicked in, and he was pulled to the room of a poor infant who had been wished away to his labyrinth, and had done nothing wrong. Jareth still cringed away from the way he had acted, and the position his chief of staff had been pushed to.

Really, Hoggle spraying fairies outside the labyrinth? It was ridiculous! Hoggle was the strongest, most intelligent goblin in the place, and Magic had made him act like an imbecile. Along with everyone else in the Underground.

He hadn't been able to step foot in the staircase room since that stupid girl had 'defeated' him. Jareth was glad that she had, he didn't know what he would have done had she accepted his 'offer'. Being bound for an eternity to a child who still believed life was supposed to be fair would have been an absolute nightmare. He shuddered just thinking about it.

Flopping rather ungracefully onto his throne, Jareth surveyed the work that was taking place, smiling when he saw that things were getting back to normal.

Just the way things were supposed to be.

Sure, the left wall was a rather...alarming shade of purple, and there were vines growing from the wall directly in front of him, curling around the double doors that led in, but all in all it was another day in the Labyrinth.

Until IT happened.

He capitalized it in his head, IT being the biggest, most earth shattering, relevant thing that had happened to him in a thousand years of existence.

It started off slowly, a warm feeling on the back of his neck that began to spread, down to his toes, causing them to curl. His magic sat up, searching around for the person/thing calling that feeling, and so did his physical self, beginning to prowl around the throne room like a jungle cat in its cages at the mortal Zoo's.

Had it finally happened? After a thousand years, had his magic's mate finally come into being? Was it even possible? He was way past his majority, centuries past, and most kings found their mates at the moment of reaching 100, and when he hadn't, he just assumed that he was the first in his line to not need one, to have such control over his magic that it wasn't necessary.

Jareth had been proud of that. He'd revealed in the fact, crowing in front of his family that he wasn't weak enough to need a Soul Mate.

He called himself dumb and stupid for that now.

Who wouldn't want this? This glow, this feeling of being absolutely complete for the first time in his life. He had been so closed off before, that he hadn't even let himself see what he was missing. Hadn't wanted to think that he was missing anything.

And now he wanted it all!

The Goblin King, the most feared and respected man in all of the Underground's nine kingdoms, ran out of his throne room like a giddy schoolboy, blowing past those goblins that were trying to go about their daily business, leaving them flattened against the walls as they stared after him, wide-eyed.

He shoved open the door to Hoggle's office, leaving it to bang against the wall, and nearly tripped into his seat in his haste to talk to his closest friend.

"Hoggle! Hoggle, he exists!" Jareth, whether it was instinctual or he just knew his own preferences better than he thought he did, didn't question the fact that his Magic's Mate was male. It just was.

Hoggle blinked at him, putting the pen he held down and staring at his king like there were tentacles growing out of his back.

"Jareth? Are you sure you're okay?" He had never seen Jareth so...happy, in all his years of service. It was frankly, frightening. "Do I need to call for a healer?" He reached for a small device on his desk, preparing himself to deal with a grumpy king who was forced into a hospital bed against his will, but Jareth shook his head, nearly bouncing in his seat.

"No, No Hoggle," he waved his hand, "I'm absolutely fine! In Fact, I'm more than Fine! I couldn't be better if Gold fell from the sky!" Jareth, like all Goblins, had an obsession with gold. "He's alive! And I've never felt so alive in my life!"

Hoggle blinked again. He was usually confused when Jareth was around, had gotten used to it centuries ago, but this, this was a different kind of confusion.

He honestly had no idea what the hell was going on, and he didn't like it. It was his responsibility to know all the comings and goings in the Labyrinth especially, and he prided himself on knowing most of what happened in the rest of the kingdom. Goblins spies couldn't be beat, after all.

"My Magic's Mate! Hoggle, he's out there!" That was quite a mouthful to say, but Jareth had the feeling that he would never get tired of saying it. He knew that he and his Magic's Mate might not be compatible at first, but he knew they would work it out, whatever the problem was. Magic was a powerful motivator, and it was hard to stay mad and upset with someone who made your magic glow.

Jareth knew that he couldn't.

Hoggle was just staring at him, his eyes as wide as saucers. He was as surprised as Jareth at the news. He, and the rest of the kingdom, had long ago resigned themselves to having an incomplete ruler, and they hurt for him, because no matter what he told himself, Jareth was not as happy as he would be.

Now the King's attitude made sense. He had finally found what he was missing, and that would make anyone giddy.

"I have to find him Hoggle; I have to find him soon." Hoggle nodded, immediately pulling out the files of the Goblins they would need to do it, noticing the almost desperate gleam that was beginning to shine through the euphoria.

"We'll do it like this, Your Majesty. You'll have him with you in no time."

Jareth leaned in closely, eagerly supplying the crystals requested.

He hoped it didn't take long.

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**AN-Here's chapter One. It****'****s a monster, and Chapter two is turning out to be just as long, so I hope you guys enjoy!**

**Slytherin**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN-Here's Chapter Two! It weighs in at 6200+ words before Authors Notes, so Enjoy! Betaed by the Amazing SakuraEternity, who made this readable and walked me through some sticky plot holes. Thanks a ton! Also, I forgot to mention in the previous chapter. Some elements of this story, mostly in regards to the Jareth/Goblins interaction, have been heavily influenced by Ru's Labyrinth world. The elements are used with permission with the full permission of the author. You should all go check out her stories, especially "Fall Out from the War" which is amazing!**

**Disclaimer-I own nothing. Anything not recognized as the property of Bandai or J.R. Rowling is most likely my creation. Please do not use them without permission. **

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Chapter Two

Petunia Dursley sighed as she closed the door behind herself, dropping the suitcase on the floor and groaning as she stretched out the kinks in her back.

The last few days had been from a version of hell she hadn't known existed; ending in the loss of her nephew to the very people she had tried her hardest to protect him from.

She chuckled at herself, despite the situation. No one besides herself, her husband, and her child who had been brought into the secret as soon as he was truly old enough to understand, would see the way they had been treating Harry as protecting, but it was the only thing that they could think of to do.

Lily and Petunia's parents had tried their hardest to convince her not to go, to talk to her and bribe her with things that they wouldn't normally give, in an effort to keep her from taking such a step away from the family. They didn't think that Witchcraft was evil, by any means, at least not then, but they knew that if Lily went away to learn something that no one else in the family could do, would put a wedge between them, no matter how much they tried.

Lily had waved off their concerns, determined to learn anything new that she could. She had always been like a sponge, soaking up everything and anything that she could get her hands on. It was simply too big of an opportunity for her to pass up.

And so she left.

Petunia waited anxiously for her sister to return each and every summer, though every time Lily came back stranger and stranger. The magic was one thing, Petunia even liked watching it on occasion, though she lost that glee when Lily turned her favorite locket into a frog for no reason other than she could.

It was when she started talking about the maniac that would eventually take her life that Petunia really got scared. She had begged, pleaded and cried until her eyes were red and puffy for days, for Lily to stay home that year. To not go back. Learning wasn't worth her life.

She could still remember the look on her sister's face, the smile that she always got when she thought Petunia was failing to grasp a subject that Lily herself found so easy, and, explained it one last time. "It's not about learning anymore, Tuney. There's so much more at stake than grades and being Head Girl. I have a part to play, and I cannot walk away. I wouldn't want to anyway." She had smiled, ran a hand down Petunia's hair, and walked through to the train that would take her away.

Petunia had never forgiven her for that. Through all the pain and suffering that followed: her parents being murdered in a 'terrorist' attack, that Lily tearfully explained was really an attack from her world because Lily had dared to go against Lord Voldemort, to Petunia's own wedding that was ruined because of yet another attack.

And losing Lily herself.

Petunia shook her head and pushed her hair back from her face, stepping around the suitcase and moving to wash the dishes that had been sitting in the sink for days.

With any luck, though he had gone away and joined Them for now, they wouldn't be able to hold him. Harry was smart, smarter than his mother had been at that age. No matter that he thought that they didn't know, he would see through whatever false promises and hopes they managed to give him.

That was what they had tried to do for years, after all. Being a servant in a house that wanted nothing more than to treat him like a prince, living in a room that was barely big enough to hold brooms, let alone a child, had been to show him how to look beyond the outside. Twisted, and probably didn't make much sense to a child, but he would see. He would see through the Wizards. It was a curse even in a mental monologue, a game, and when he finally broke free from them, they would be able to treat him like the child he was.

Until then, they would have to do everything they could to let their thoughts be known, trying to push him towards seeing the truth as soon as possible.

The little man in the stupid bowler hat may have laid down his rules for treatment of Harry, trying to turn him into some downtrodden hero ready to be saved, but magic didn't rule all.

She just waited for the day when it backfired on all involved. She would take her lumps, had resigned herself to a probable prison term years ago, but Harry would be free. Vernon and she would make damn sure of it if it was the last bloody thing that she ever did.

Petunia finished the last dish, sitting it on the drying rack, and toweled off her hands, turning to face Vernon and Dudley as they came in with the last of the luggage. Dudley was a little too large for her liking, yet another side effect of association with Them, and he wiped the sweat that had accumulated off his brow from a short walk to and from the car.

"Mum?" He looked at her, still the sweet little boy who had loved playing with his cousin when he was a toddler, eagerly sharing all of his toys until They came again, and she could see that concern buried deep in his eyes. When Harry wasn't around, it was always easier to let real feelings out. "Will Harry be okay? They won't hurt him will they?"

Vernon placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. Out of all of them, Vernon felt the mistreatment of Harry the most. He always said that Harry looked just like the child he had lost when he himself was just a teenager, the child whose grave he visited every Sunday without fail.

"They will, Son, they'll hurt him more than he could ever guess. But when he's ready to come back to us, we'll make sure they'll never get their hands on him again." The words were said fiercely, and Petunia shuddered at the look in her husband's eyes. That was the man that she had married, the man who would do anything to protect his family and those he cared about.

Even that wasted lump of space that was his sister, Marge. Petunia's lip curled at the mere mention of that overfed, over spoiled, bitch that she was forced to entertain in her house five or six times a year.

But she pushed the thought to the back of her brain. Marjorie would get what was coming to her, and Petunia would be there to see it, but it wasn't now, and Petunia had other things to worry about.

"Okay you two, get unpacking. And Vernon, for Christ's sake, take all those boards down! Why you thought that would keep them out, I'll never understand." She waved her hands and shooed the two on their way, beginning to set the house to right, shooting a dirty look at her husband whenever she felt like it.

Wizards or not, there was no reason that they should have left the house the way that it was.

* * *

While his family set their house to rights, Harry Potter was being taken down to a vault that he never knew existed. Harry had the feeling that the Goblin who was escorting him, wasn't too happy with the job he had been assigned.

"So, um," Harry didn't know exactly what to say to a goblin. He had never had much luck with talking to normal people, let alone someone who belonged to a world so different from what he was used to, but he didn't want to sit in silence. Silence made him squirm. "Do only Goblins work here?" It was a stupid question, and the Goblin gave him a look that told him as much.

"No. We have several Human sectors as well."

Silence reigned again, and Harry got in the cart without another word, shivering from the tension that was in the air. Something about him upset the Goblin, and Harry didn't know what to do to fix it. He didn't like people being upset with him, especially when he didn't know what he'd done wrong. He resisted the urge to cross his arms and shiver, focusing his eyes on the scenery that was rushing past him.

They must be hundreds of feet underground, he watched as the smooth stone walls of the upper bank turned into the rugged, chopped stone that only came from hand digging a tunnel.

How long had it taken the Goblins to build this? Had they used magic? Or had they hand dug them like the dwarves in Tolkien's novels? Harry had taken those books to read over the summer from the school library, and devoured them over and over. They had been hard to read at first, full of big words that he wasn't sure he knew the meaning of, but by the time this whole Wizarding World thing started, the characters were the best friends he could ever have. Harry amused himself by imagining how the Fellowship would have taken his new surroundings.

"I'm not upset with you." The words from the goblin came out of nowhere, and Harry was pulled from his happy fantasies with an almost painful jolt. Griphook was looking back at him, with a look that could have passed for a long lost cousin of concern, on his face. The cart had come to a stop without the boy wizard knowing it, and he awkwardly climbed out of it, keeping his eye on the strange creature that got out after him. "I just don't appreciate being sent to do a trainee's job. It has nothing to do with you. Now let's get your vault open." Harry nodded, handing over his key and wishing that they hadn't left Hagrid in the bank proper above, following another goblin to pick up a package that had not been placed in a vault.

He gathered his money awkwardly, ever aware of the deep look that he was getting from the goblin standing behind him, and was never more happy than to get away from the creature, rejoining the large man, and leaving the bank hurriedly. Hagrid looked down at him with a funny look on his face.

"Didn' ya enjoy tha cart?" he looked green; "Most students love it."

Harry nodded and smiled, but kept his question until they were far enough from the bank that he didn't think they would be overheard.

"Hagrid, Can goblins read minds?" Hagrid blinked at him, once, twice, a third time, before erupting into raucous laughter, ending up bent over in the middle of the street with his hands on his knees. Harry glared at the large man, not happy that his question had been laughed at. It wasn't his fault he didn't know anything! He had never even heard of the Wizarding World, he wasn't going to know everything there was to know.

"'m Sorry about tha' 'arry, but Goblins' aren't telepathic, no one is. That's just a muggle myth." Harry frowned.

Then how had Griphook known what Harry was thinking? In almost exact words at that? He said as much to Hagrid, who gave him a measuring look, before smiling.

"Why 'arry, I think ya may be a bit of a' empath. Don' worry, Dumbledore will teach ya' ta control tha'" Harry followed Hagrid meekly, though his brain was whirring at a million miles a minute, adding one more thing to his list of 'things not quite right here'. Harry was sure that there were a million reasons for the incident, even if Telepathy wasn't part of it.

Why would Hagrid automatically jump to empathy?

Both were so lost in their thoughts that they missed the eyes that stared unblinkingly at their backs. The mismatched eyes were shining, a crystal twirling through his fingers. He smiled, and sent the crystal from his hand, watching it float unseen past the mortals in the busy street, to slip into the young boys' pocket.

"When you're ready...Harry."

He turned and went back into his only mortal establishment, humming a song.

"Though we're strangers 'til now, We're choosing the path Between the stars. I'll leave my love  
Between the stars." He had sung it for Sarah, he barely held back the shudder from thinking about her, but he felt that it fit much better for Harry.

His Harry.

The goblin holding the door open for him snickered, and Jareth shot him a look. He only got a blank stare back in return, and Jareth cursed as he walked away.

Now that they knew he wasn't invulnerable, they had been insufferable.

* * *

***Gringotts Bank**

**Five Minutes Previous* **

As soon as Harry Potter walked away, Griphook was almost bolting for Ragnorak's office. At first he'd been extremely insulted that a warrior of his stature had been assigned to escort meddlesome wizards to their vaults, now he was glad he'd been the one to have the honor of seeing him first.

He took the corner at a dead run, ignoring the goblins who dove out of his way and hollered curses at his back, though one particular one about his mother and an aardvark had him turning his head and cursing back as he turned it, and that was his fatal mistake.

SLAM!

His teeth jarred as he slammed into something as unmovable as the rock that made up the tunnels underneath them, and he sprawled on his back like a sack of potatoes, blinking up at the shape that was surrounded by light.

Ragnorak, the Head of Gringotts and number Two Goblin on the High Council, stood over him, a scowl on his face.

"Griphook! What in Labyrinth's name do you think you were doing? Running through a reputable establishment like you were nothing but a hobgoblin! I see I wasn't mistaken in my assessment of your...skills." Ragnorak's voice was venom, and Griphook fought not to cringe back. He had seen others become the victim of the bankers rage, but he had never felt its fury.

And he hoped never to again.

"And now because of you, we won't be able to find the King's Mate as soon as we would have! He's probably already left the building, and who knows where he is now!"

Griphook blinked.

"I know who he is." It came out unbidden, and fairly untruthfully. He had his suspicions, yes, but he didn't know anything for concrete fact. He was just making a guess based on the situation he'd found himself in.

Ragnorak's mouth snapped shut with an almost audible click, and he stared down at his underling.

"What?" Griphook shook his head to clear the fuzziness and stood up, telling himself that he had not swayed as he did.

"That's why I was coming to see you, Uncle." Ragnorak's eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent. "When I took Harry Potter down to his vault, that he knew nothing about by the way, I felt...something." He had never felt it before, so he wasn't quite sure how to describe it to someone who hadn't felt it. "He thought I was upset with him, and I...didn't want him to think that…" He slanted his eyes down, knowing that made him sound weak.

They were goblins; they didn't fear mortals or care how they looked at them, and for him to admit that to Ragnorak of all Goblins, it was a disgrace!

Too his everlasting surprise, Ragnorak just laughed, and laughed heartily!

"I figure you'll be big at the tavern later tonight, nephew. You're the first goblin to feel that connection in two thousand years." He hit Griphook's shoulder, hard enough to send him shaking forward, and turned around, still laughing uproariously, heading towards his office. "The King is going to love this!"

Three minutes later, Jareth the Goblin King was walking out of the Head Goblin's office, ignoring all his subjects that gathered around to talk to him.

"He was headed out of the bank, Sire." Ragnorak was on the King's heels. "We're putting out Goblins to stop him when they find him. He nee..." Jareth raised a hand a Ragnorak immediately stopped talking, waiting.

"No. From what you've told me, he's a child who has just been introduced to a world he has never known of. The last thing I want to do is tell him who he is, and take away what's left of his childhood. No, we'll watch, and we'll wait. When he's ready, I'll know." He pulled a crystal out of his hand and continued on his way, twirling it in his hands, "He'll find me."

* * *

The Former Gundam Pilots stared at each other as they waited in Conference Room 6 for Lady Une to make an appearance at their weekly briefing, stacks of files of varying heights in front of each of them. Duo was spinning in a slow circle, pushing his chair around with his foot.

Quatre was rolling his eyes at his fellow partner, thumbing through a black ringed binder with the Winner Incorporated logo emblazoned on the front. Ever since the blond had accepted his role as head of his Father's Company, he had taken to the role like a Duck to water, and it was a scarce occasion where he was found without something to do with his company on his person, even during top secret Preventors meetings. It drove Lady Une to distraction, but she never dared say a word. Not only could she not afford to lose one of her top agents, the only ones that she could send on most of the missions that the Preventors handled these days, but she couldn't afford to turn the head of the largest, most influential and not to mention wealthiest corporation in the ESUN against her and the organization.

No one in their right mind would attempt it.

Especially since WEI was now the only provider of weapons and small arms to the Police and Preventors forces around the globe, at a very substantial discount.

It was a very nice arrangement for all involved.

Trowa was sitting in a corner, a very clear distance between himself and the rest of the pilots. While he was still a brother, and they would protect him to the death, not one of them trusted him like they once had. Spy or not, instrumental to the end of Mariemeia's short reign of terror or not, he had still worked against them. For a group as tight knit as the Gundam Pilots, who relied on each other to stay one step ahead of the game and stay alive, betrayal was inexcusable. They had forgiven Wufei, almost without question, but Trowa was a different matter. Trowa had no memories, no upbringing to decide how he acted; it was inexcusable that he had acted like he had. Especially without consulting any of them first.

He didn't blame them. He knew he would have reacted the same way if it had been one of them in his position. It was a common thread that bound them together, even now. The former clown gave Wufei a smile as the youngest of the pilots turned and looked at him, the hair hanging around his face making him look younger than he was. They had all been surprised, when after the war a birth certificate had been dug out for the Chinese pilot, held in the main records building in the Former Chinese Republic, a birth certificate that clearly put Chang Wufei at almost two years younger than he passed himself off as, only having turned fourteen half way through the war. It still surprised them all that he had managed to do the things he had, accomplished what he had, when he was so young.

"How was your last miss...assignment?" Trowa smiled wider as Wufei frowned and shook his head, cursing the fact that Une had threatened them all with three months of desk duty if they didn't attempt to get their heads out of war mode. Apparently after five years, she had gotten tired of them acting like they were still in the middle of the Eve Wars.

"Wasn't too bad. Simple in and out. Even the rooks that were with me weren't too much of a hindrance. Though Stevenson still hasn't learned anything." Both pilots rolled their eyes at the mention of one of the worst recruits they'd seen come through the organization since it was founded. The forty year old ex-cop didn't think he had anything to learn from Five ex-Terrorists that were half his age.

He would be surprised when he was brought in for his post mission review. But then again he always was.

"What about you? Duo drive you insane?" The again was left unsaid, but Wufei shook his head, a feral smile on his face. "Oh? Something interesting happen?" Lately they had all been sent on missions, assignments, that were far below their abilities it was almost laughable, and from what he remembered Duo and Wufei's last mission had been a salvage detail, punishment for a previous stunt they had pulled.

Or Wufei had pulled as it were.

The Asian pilot just smiled again, leaning back in his seat and crossed his arms. By this point, they had caught the attention of the other pilots, who were watching the exchange with narrowed eyes and some confusion. While they still acknowledged Trowa, even involved him sometimes with things outside of work, talking and discussing work issues was not something they did on a regular basis anymore unless it was required. Personally, they may trust him, but not with work. It was rare that he was trusted to work with any of them on an assignment, unless his particular skill set was required.

Wufei ignored them, turning his back on the rest of the room and focusing his full attention on the Heavyarms Pilot, a very clear indication that while they might not trust Trowa, he did. Wufei had never understood why they forgave him without a second thought, but Trowa they didn't. At least Trowa had had reasons. All Wufei was running on was his desire to keep fighting. All he knew was Fighting. Fighting for Honor, Fighting for Justice. Just fighting. If they didn't trust someone, it should be him.

"Well, while we were digging through that ruin of a building," His face gave away what he thought of that particular job, "some of the local gangs had gotten their hands on a few guns. Nothing major. I handled it until Duo came out with his new library." He shot a smug look at the braided pilot, who just blew a raspberry and continued twirling his chair around. Until Heero, who until now had been focused entirely on his ever present laptop, reached out and snagged his braid, stopping the motion that was making half the room dizzy. "They should think twice about firing weapons they don't know how to handle. Amateurs." The rest of the room went back to whatever they were doing, except Duo who sat in his chair pouting like someone had killed his favorite puppy.

And Quatre, who had put his folder down and was looking at Wufei with a shocked look on his face.

"On L4? Gangs, with weapons, on L4?" His voice was outraged, at the thought that his home colony, that he had fought so hard to keep free of the influences that had overrun the other colonies, had fallen victim to those influences without him noticing. As the oldest of the pilots, he took too much on his shoulders, and that sometimes led to things being overlooked. Like the fact that his colony had had the undesirable elements since before the war started, they were just more well hidden. The other pilots shared a look over his head, a good natured eye roll for their self-proclaimed mother hen.

"Yes Quatre, a gang with weapons on L4. You should know that, we sent you a report before we came back, since it is your colony and all." Wufei's voice was bland and the sarcasm nearly dripped from it, getting him a sharp look and a scowl in return.

'I'll have you know Chan..." The door to the conference room opened, and all five men turned their attention to her, though none of them moved to salute. She rolled her eyes, but by this point, Lady Anne Une, once Colonel in the Oz force, and an aide to Treize Kushrenada himself, was well used to not getting the proper respect from these five when they weren't in the public's eye.

"Sorry I'm late, Gentleman, Ms. Relena" there was a room wide wince, "had to be intercepted from entering the building again. You would think running the government would be enough for her, but now, she thinks she has to run us too." Une sat down, taking her place at the head of the table, and began to pass out files to each pilot, accepting the ones that they handed over in return. She would look over them when she got a chance, but with few exceptions, she trusted her once enemies work without question. They may sometimes not follow procedure to the letter, but no one could say they didn't get results.

Usually with pretty explosions to go along with said results.

"Now." She looked at the table again, folding her hands in front of her and eyeing everyone in the room. She knew that the news she had to deliver, and Sally's proof that would no doubt be needed, would not sit well in the room. Une had no doubt that something would happen after this meeting, something Earth shattering, but she had no idea what they would demand. This group was tight knit, and for one of their own to be out there, and not know, it was going to be… hellish was the only word that she could think of to encompass the weeks to come. "I know that I called this meeting earlier than I usually do, but I have some...shocking news. Sally has finished going over the files that Death and Dragon brought back." Both rolled their eyes.

They already had numbers; they didn't need tacky code names to go on top of it!

"As I was saying!" She gave both men dark looks that were promptly ignored, and kept going. She wanted to get this out and get out of the room as soon as possible. "The Files that Death dug out of the Doctors Office, a Doctor Michaels by all accounts, have produced some…interesting facts. Facts concerning the five of you, from what Sally tells me."

Silence reigned in the room for a few precious moments, before Duo broke that silence, as usual.

"What do you mean, concerning us? From the Dates I saw on the way back, we would have been, what," He looked around at the rest of the pilots, "Fourteen? Fifteen at the most? And Younger for 'Fei. What would this Doctor have to do with us?" He blinked, "Or, rather, want with us?"

Une sighed. She had hoped that she would have more time to come up with answers before they jumped right into the hard stuff. But of course it was the Gundam Pilots, they never took the easy route for themselves or the others.

She was going to have to suck it up and keep going, hoping against hope that they wouldn't tear her to pieces when they found out what she had to say.

"From what we could gather, he wanted your child." They stared at her as if she had just said the sky was Green and Oz won the war without opposition.

"Une, that is ridiculous. If you wanted to play a prank, you should have at least played a believable one." Heero was looking at her like she was way less intelligent that he had originally thought, and she knew that that wasn't that smart to begin with. "There is no way there are five children out there that are ours. We would have known." Lady Une shook her head.

This was going to be harder than she thought. But, of course, she had to have Sally explain the idea, and the process, to her four different times before she was able to wrap her head around it and accept facts as they were.

It seemed it was her turn to do the same. She took a deep breath, fortifying herself, and tried again.

"Just open up the files in front of you, so you can follow along with the rest of the class." They blinked at her again and sullenly opened up the files, still clearly thinking she was losing her mind and then some. "From what Sally has been able to decipher, from three nonstop days and nights, so no fucking with our senior medical officer or you might not survive." Another deep breath. "From what Sally has been able to decipher from the incomplete files that were brought back, is that This Dr. Michaels, was in fact one of the original builders of the Gundams." Now they were paying attention, each one of them leaning forward in their seats and fixing their eyes on her. Quatre was wide-eyed. He'd had the best education, and was catching onto where she was headed with this more quickly than his comrades.

"There was some sort of disagreement between the six before the Mechas were built, so the sixth was never completed. Some of these files were personal journal entries, rants more like it, and while there is mention of the sixth Gundam being started and hidden, he never comes out and says exactly where it is, just bizarre hints that honestly make no sense. But what is more interesting," She flipped a page, "is what he was trying to do with his practice. Apparently, and this is going to sound crazy, he became obsessed with creating the perfect pilot for when he finished his masterpiece. So, instead of finding a suitable candidate from the people of L4 where he'd chosen to hide out, he decided to create one. And what better way, than to use the pilots his rivals already had?"

She waited to see who got it first, and she was not disappointed.

"Bull shit!" Quatre's voice was outraged and he was glaring at her with blazing blue eyes. The other pilots jumped, clearly not expecting such an outcry from the usually quiet one, at least in these meetings, but she was expecting it.

"Lady Une, that is not logically possible." Heero followed shortly after, glaring just as hotly as the blond.

"I can assure you, we had this analyzed by four different techs, and five different doctors. All of them came to the same conclusion. He left a detailed description of the process he used, and while the idea of FIVE fathers is...rather outlandish, I can assure you the science adds up...unfortunately."

The light bulb went on for the other three, and an uproar erupted in the room. She was sure that the shouting could be heard all the way down the hall and that was confirmed when her secretary barged into the room with three agents behind him, guns drawn and ready to shoot.

The pilots didn't even notice their arrival, just continued yelling at her and each other.

She waved the agents out, eventually succeeded in getting her secretary out the door after several assurances that despite their big words, the pilots wouldn't kill her, she signed their paychecks after all. The man was new, only having worked with her for little more than three weeks, and wasn't yet used to the constant upheaval that surrounded the former terrorists. But eventually she was able to shove him out the door and settle back into her chair to wait out the screaming.

The three hours of screaming. Sally came and went, inducing more screaming, until they finally settled down, and accepted what was going on, or at least decided to start accepting what was going on.

"Do we know...its...name?" Trowa's voice was just this side of cold, and though Une was surprised by that, she didn't comment. At least one of them was ready to talk rationally. She only wished that she had better news for them regarding that little fact.

"No, sadly. Dr. M, while keeping his notes as he did with all of his ideas, did keep one thing secret and that was the identity of the child. While we know his mother's name was Lily Potter, and there is a death certificate for the woman in question, or a woman with the same name, we cannot find a birth or death certificate for the child. Dr. M records seeing the child after birth, so we know that he did in fact survive, we have no idea where he might be now, as the records for Ms. Potter do not exist except for her death. We have no way of locating the child, unless we can find someone who knew her. If the child is alive, he'd be around ten, possibly eleven depending on his birth date, which again, was not properly documented."

The room sat in silence for what seemed like ages, all of them deep in thought, the tension thick enough to cut with a sword, before Quatre dropped the pen he was playing with, and looked up at her.

"What about registering everyone? We don't want people to know we're looking for one certain child, because then he may be in danger," He looked outraged at the very thought that a child of his blood would have anything but the best, "so the easiest thing to do would be to register everyone on the planet. It would also have the side effect of having families to send the War Orphans to. We'll solve two problems with a couple million blood tests."

She gagged on the water that she had just taken a sip of, spewing it all over Trowa who drew back revolted.

"Easy? You call getting blood tests from each and every human on the planet, analyzing, cataloging, and reuniting families, Easy? We'd have to hire thousands of new techs, make room in the prisons for the inevitable kidnapping cases, which would solve open cases I will give you that, create a process for reuniting families, making sure that we don't send runaways back to the abusive families that they ran away from if that's the case, and a million other logistical problems that are going to give me nightmares for months just thinking about." She paused to take a deep breath, "And Did I mention that this will probably cost more to implement than is in the budget for the next hundred years?" She was standing up and yelling by the time that she finished speaking, spittle flying everywhere. The Pilots did nothing but slide their folders back a little from getting soaked, and waited her out.

She was getting tired of that, very quickly.

"And? I'll fund some of this, it is my child after all, but you'll have to ante up as well Une. I'm not going to pay the entire government payroll you know."

She just shook her head, but pulled out a pad and began taking notes as they started bantering ideas back and forth. Une had no doubt that whenever they found this child, if he was still alive, he would have the five most overprotective parents on the face of the Earth.

Woe would befall anyone who so much as gave him a paper cut.

Six Months later, The Family Reconstruction Act was signed into law by the ESUN President, in an act met with both criticism and praise. It generated thousands of jobs, which generated revenue for the businesses that were still trying to come back from a war almost a decade past, revenue that was quickly taken back by the taxes that were levied to pay for the unprecedented registration. Everyone, from newborn, to the oldest person on the planet was required by law to register at their local Preventors office, to be fined if they did not comply within a reasonable amount of time after receiving the letter that testing was being done in their area.

The records were held in the Preventors Database, made impenetrable by Heero who prided himself on never having been hacked, and every sample, while being matched against every other DNA sample in the database, were also ran against the five samples that were not added to the Database, first and foremost, for a hit on all five. They had yet to get even the slightest blip, except for Quatre's 27 sisters, which had caused quite the scandal.

It would be another five years before a hit was found, and three worlds shattered in the face of paternal rage

* * *

**AN-And there it is! Wordy, I know, but the next chapters will be action packed, These had to be done to get some background in, or everyone, including me, would be lost! Oh, Please read and review! The Alerts and Favorites are fantastic of course, but even a quick "I like it" feeds my muse even more!**

**Slytherin**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN-So Here's the next chapter. I know it wasn't as quick as the other two, but I'm back at work now and don't have as much time to work on it as I wish I did. This is the last chapter that will encompass all three worlds, and have as much jumping around and dis-jointedness as the others do. Chapter four will have everyone in relatively the same area, so it will flow better. This is a darker chapter, lots of angst for all involved, but it gets a little lighter as the rest of the story goes on, as Harry begins to realize his new destiny.**

**WARNING-The First hints of actual SLASH appear in this chapter. If you don't like SLASH, I don't know why you are reading this story at all, but you might want to back out now, if SLASH isn't your cup of tea.**

**Thanks for all the awesome reviews! They are what kept me working on this chapter when I got beyond frustrated. Sakura got a lot of IM's updating her on the number. I'm glad y'all are all enjoying it!**

**Thanks to Sakura for being an awesome beta/sounding board/kick in the pants. Without her, this chapter wouldn't have made it off the ground.**

**Disclaimer-I own nothing. Bandai owns Gundam Wing A/C, J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and Jim Henson Productions owns Labyrinth. None of the aforementioned are me, as my lawyer keeps beating into my head :(**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Five Years Later**  
**Preventors HQ**  
**Former Sanq Kingdom**

"Duo, he's not in there." Duo looked up from the papers he was studying, his eyes bloodshot and tiredness flooding every bit of his body. Trowa was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, looking just as tired as Duo himself felt. "We've finally found a birth certificate that's a possible match."

Duo stood up, energy flooding him as he bolted towards the door and down the hallway to where their base of operations for this particular mission had been for the last five years, Trowa hollering after for him to wait. There was a tone to the other pilots voice that he didn't like, that made him cringe away from the knowledge of what caused that tone, but he kept going.

If they found his son, he wanted to know.

He crashed through the door, sending it slamming back into the wall behind it, and froze as three pairs of eyes, Quatre's red rimmed and tear filled, pinned him.

Then he knew.

He knew that all the searching, all the sleepless nights over the last five years had been for nothing.

Their son was dead, and none of them had ever gotten the chance to know him.

The braided pilot sank into the closest chair his shaking legs could carry him to, and stared at his brothers-in-arms. He didn't shift as Trowa came in, shutting the door behind him and sliding into a seat next to Wufei, taking the other pilots hand in a death grip. Whether that was to comfort himself, or his boyfriend, no one cared.

"How?" Duo hated how broken his voice was. He had never met the child, never been able to be a parent, the loss shouldn't be hitting him as hard as it was now.

"We don't know" Quatre's voice was teary, and he wrapped his arms around himself in comfort as the tears flowed down his face unchecked. "Af…After we didn't find a match in the DNA files, after searching for so long, we started going through death certificates," Duo saw Wufei flinch as if struck and Trowa's arm wrap around him possessively, pulling the smaller pilot fully into his lap. Long ago, they would have expected Wufei to flail and physically attack someone who even attempted it, but the years had calmed the pilot down, and he willingly curled into his protector, "And we found one for Lily Evans Potter, filed one year after the date of the last appointment in M's file. We compared the DNA found to the one in the file, and it was a match. Right behind that was a certificate for her son, Harry James Potter. He died…" Heero jumped from his seat and began to pace, his hands clenched into fists that Duo was sure would draw blood if he kept it up, and Quatre took a second to gather himself, "He died on his eleventh birthday. The year we started looking for him"

Duo closed his eyes and wept.

The room was silent for hours, only broken by the sounds of sobs and pacing from the five of them, before Wufei gathered control of himself and looked up at the others. His eyes were determined, and he climbed off the clown's lap, putting his hands down on the table in front of him and studying the rest of the room.

"How? How did...Harry...die?" the name was foreign to them, they had all decided on a name to call the boy when they first found out about him, a way to make him real in their minds when they first started this mad search for someone who may or may not exist. "Was there a cause of death?"  
Quatre looked up from his folded arms, his face blotchy and snot running from his nose. He was a far cry from the composed 28 year old CEO of the biggest corporation in the ESUN, but a fire burned in his blue eyes, promising to consume anything that stood in his way to getting answers.

"It didn't say, it was just a birth and death date. We assume its from a coroner who was used to working in the war." It had been common practice before the war ended to not worry about cause of death. The Coroners had been over worked, most just signing names to pieces of paper that were already prepared. There were still numerous graves with just a date of death, no identification found for the poor souls who lay underneath it. The FRA had done much for that, identifying millions of soldiers and civilians so they could be given proper burials, but there were still so many that rotted in the ground with no one to claim them.

Wufei paced back and forth, stepping nimbly around the Perfect Soldier who hadn't stopped since he started, and came back to the table, clearly thinking something over.

"But, the date on the certificate says that it was signed four-five years ago, after the war was over. No Coroner on record was using War methods anymore. Why was this one?"

There was silence after his proclamation, as the facts turned over and over in their heads, before Heero came to the same decision.

"It's a fake. Faked by someone who doesn't know anything about the protocols now. They are working off of War Time, and haven't had a reason to check and see if changes have been made. They are either very stupid, or extremely smart. We never would have noticed, if there hadn't been a reason for us to look for this very certificate." A slow smile crossed the Perfect Soldier's face, and he crossed to take Duo's shoulder, shaking it until the other pilot stopped his crying and looked up at him. "He may still be alive."

The room erupted into a flurry of movement, none of them wanting to pass up the second chance that they may have just been given. Heero slid his ever present laptop out of his bag and quickly bypassed the firewalls he'd installed around the Preventor's database, accessing the Death Certificate that still covered him in a cold sweat when he thought about it. He had been the one to find it, and he could still remember the cold dread and anger that settled in his stomach. He may never have thought he would be a father, but he would move heaven and earth for this child that he had never met, and if there was a chance that his son was still alive, Heero would find him, and nothing on earth would hurt the boy again.

Heero went through the files, finding the one for the child's mother, who he held a soft spot for. They may never have met, never would on this earth, but she had carried their child, and that made her important. If someone had murdered her, they would get revenge.

She deserved that much at least.

"Lily Evans Potter" he read aloud, skipping past the birth and death dates, until an anomaly reported at the bottom of the page caught his attention, "There is another death certificate than the one originally found." He could feel Quatre coming behind him, the scent of his signature scent wafting through the air.

Heero tried not to gag.

Expensive it may be, but Heero would never get used to one of his comrades wearing something that gave away his position so easily.

And did it have to be so strong? Heero fought back the sneeze, and tried to focus.

"This one is from when she's eleven as well" Quatre tugged a chair over and sat down, looking at the files while the others did nothing but move. He wasn't sure why they were moving around when they really had nothing to do. "Heero." Said pilot turned his head to study the blond, who had a serious look on his face, "You added a search feature, correct?"

Heero nodded. It had made sense to be able to search the entire database for what he wanted, but he didn't think he would have ever been using it to search for his child's death certificate, or anything of the sort.

"Search for other deaths that occurred on a child's eleventh birthday". Heero frowned, but did as ordered, having to be creative with the terms entered into the search field to pull up the results that he wanted. After a good half hour of searching, the energy and the restlessness in the room dissipated to quiet watchfulness, he had compiled a list of over three hundred children dead on their eleventh birthday from the last thirty years.

With the war, it was more difficult to pinpoint exactly how many, there were probably more, but that was more than enough to show a pattern.  
The weirdest thing, however, was almost a third of those children proclaimed dead, showed up seven to ten years later, victims of 'paperwork errors'.

One or two a year, believable.

A dozen a year, and something wasn't quite right. Even with the war, that was almost impossible.

Something was definitely going on, something big.

And until they found out exactly what was going on, he was going to assume that Harry was out there, somewhere, alive.  
And he would be found.

Starting with "Petunia Evans Dursley, sister to Lily Evans Potter. Guardian of one Harry James Potter. Alive." Heero's voice was stoic as he read he file, and he was already moving before he finished speaking.

The room emptied in less than three minutes.

* * *

Arabella Figg always went about her morning routine with a smile on her face. She had always been a happy person, and staying on her schedule made her happier than anything, because it meant nothing had gone wrong the night before.  
It was the same every morning, never altered unless things were FUBAR, which on this street, was more than a usual experience. So any morning she could stay on track was more than a win in her mind.

On this particular morning, however, she woke up with the feeling that something was going to go wrong. Arabella got out of bed, grabbing her wand and sliding it in her pocket for the first time in months. Since her charge had gone off to Hogwarts again for his fourth year, she'd had no reason to carry it around. When Potter wasn't around, she was a lot more relaxed than she ever could be when he was.

After all, she had to make sure that that...child, didn't slip the leashes she and her boss had been placing on him since he first arrived on Privet Drive.

As she shooed the cats out the back door to have a look around the neighborhood, and put the kettle on to boil, kicking the door to the refrigerator closed after she put the milk on the table, she froze, feeling something...strange crossing the wards. She pulled her wand out, crossing towards the door. Whatever IT was, it was heading towards the front door at a very steady pace.

She was reaching towards the simple gold knob, her wand still held defensively, when the person reached the doorstep.

And Knocked.

Arabella jumped, a scream nearly ripping itself from her throat, before she laughed at herself. She was part of the Defense League, she shouldn't be scared about someone knocking on her door.

It was probably just a mail man, with an above average squib core.

That was all, it was nothing else.

She plastered a smile on her face and pulled open the door, prepared to come face to face with a stack of bills and junk that she didn't need.

She was not prepared for HIM.

He exuded magic, it poured from every inch of his body, and she found herself cringing back.

He was Angry, and that anger was focused all on her.

"Ca…Can I help you?" He just raised an eyebrow, his mismatched pupils dilating as he inhaled like some lizard scenting the air for a threat.

Or prey.

And Arabella just felt like Prey.

And then he smiled, and her heart nearly stopped.

This man was dangerous.

"I presume you are Arabella Figg?" his voice was cultured, exotic, and made her weak at the knees.

Not all of that was fear she was ashamed to admit.

"Yes." she gathered her strength, forcing her fear out of her voice. If she was going to go down, she was going to go down fighting, or at least not afraid. "I ask again, can I help you?"

He just smiled, a smile she was beginning to hate, and put his hand on the door, pushing past her and closing the hardwood barrier behind him, hiding them from view and any help that could have come from the outside world. Arabella could feel the wards settle back into place as if they had never been disturbed in the first place, and she backed up, the wand in her hand coming up fluidly to point between his eyes. The rest of her body may be quaking in suppressed terror, but her wand hand was steady as a rock. If she could rely on nothing else, she could rely on her training to pull her through any situation.

"Yes you can, Arabella. You can relinquish the title and deed to this house."

Her jaw dropped and she stared at the stranger as if he had grown a second head and a fourth arm.

Her house?

This was all about her house?

"I'm sorry, the house is NOT for sale. I don't know who told you it was, but they were mistaken." She forced a glare on her face, though she was trembling with fear. She didn't know who this man was, though there was a niggling sense at the back of her brain that she should, that she should recognize him for some reason that she couldn't quite grasp. "Now I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The stranger just laughed.

"You don't understand me, Arabella. You don't have a choice. I want this house, for reasons that are none of your concern, and I aim to have it, no matter what your concerns are. If you refuse to sell, and I plan on paying you handsomely, I'm afraid that you won't like the consequences." he showed his teeth, "Goblin Prisons are not the...nicest...of accommodations, and I assure you that I have enough charges to put you away for life. Not that I need them."

Goblins...

Who this stranger was clicked into her mind, and she stumbled backwards, her wand dropping to the floor as she tried to put whatever furniture she could between herself and that man.

The Goblin King.

And magic's mate to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.  
It was carefully guarded knowledge in the upper echelons of the Ministry, comprising of a whole five people, that Harry Potter was mated to the King, and they had done everything in their power to make sure the Boy Who Lived never found out.

After all, it would ruin all of their plans if the brat had someone in his corner who would be able to ferret out and defend against all the plans that they had had in motion since the boy defeated Voldemort.

But now the King knew and everything was going to Hades.  
"Stay back. I warn you, I am a councilor to Minister Fudge and a member of the Dark Arts Defense League, any harm done to me will result in your instant incarceration and Kiss under the Control of Magical Creatures Act 74, page 873, paragraph 4 subsection C."

Jareth the Goblin King just shook his head, leaning against the closed door in too relaxed of a pose to indicate that he had any intention of going anywhere, anytime soon.

"I have never been one for keeping up with your world, Arabella, but I have only one thing to say to That little slice...if you try to incarcerate me, your ministry will not survive the war that follows. The Goblins will make your Lord…Voldemort...problem look like a kindergarten scuffle. Now, be a good girl and hand over that deed."

She stood in indecision, turning the options over in her head.

On one hand, Cornelius was going to have her shipped off the the filing department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, under that imbecile Arthur Weasley if she let the chance to keep Potter under control slip from her fingers like butter.

On the other hand, starting a war with the Goblin Nation by refusing to sell her house, when the Goblins controlled every bit of the wealth in the Wizarding World, would have her lynched by the general public before Fudge could get hold of her.

It wasn't a good choice either way around.

"Well? I am waiting." she looked up, meeting his eyes full on, and made her decision. She had not worked this hard over the last thirteen years to have all of that go to waste.

"I'm sorry, this house is not for sale."

He smiled the sharks grin again, and snapped his fingers.

"I had hoped you would say that. You have a lot to answer for, Arabella Malfoy Figg" she shuddered at hearing her true surname. She had fought long and hard to forget where she came from, forget the upbringing she'd had, and it was a blow to her pride for this...thing, to bring it up as if it was public knowledge.

"Do what you want. My conscious is clear." she raised her chin to him, steadfast in the knowledge that she was doing what was right for the world she loved with every breath, even as the goblin warriors filled the room, nasty weapons made for bloodshed and torture held in clawed hands. Arabella stayed silent and strong, even as those hands wrapped around her limbs, restraining her cruelly and tightly, never wavering even as they dropped her to a circular room, closing the lid on her cell with cackling glee.

It wasn't until they had walked away, leaving her, forgotten, in the oubliette, that her composure broke and she wept for her predicament.

She died six months later, a dried out husk of her former self, her magic totally drained.

Jareth paid no more attention to the former owner of his new home as she was dragged to the Underground by members of his elite guard, turning his concentration to the interior of his new acquisition.

His upper lip curled as he took in his surroundings. It was very mundane, very normal, very drab, only his Fae sight picking up the subtle tints of magic that infused the air.

It was enough to drive him mad. He was a Fae, magic flowed through his very veins. He couldn't imagine his mate growing up next door to this place, unable to feel the subtle caress of Magic herself.

What was Albus Dumbledore thinking, having the boy grow up away from magic? Everyone who knew anything about magical children, especially those from pureblood lineage's, knew that the presence of magic in the air was as important as oxygen. Depriving a child of that saturation would rob them of their natural strength.

Which was why Cornelius Fudge had supported Harry's placement here, the king had no doubts. He had done his digging over the past few years, in between observing his young mate, trying to keep what he could from destroying the child, to fighting off an invasion from Medusa who thought his distraction with his mate made it a good time to invade.

He would think about giving her kingdom back in a few years, but right now he enjoyed having her as a motionless statue in the middle of the labyrinth. He'd heard that she was quite the popular lady with the local bird population.

"Sire?", Hoggle's voice came from directly behind him, and Jareth turned slowly around, barely paying any attention to what his secretary of state was actually saying, his mind occupied with redecorating 6 Privet Drive into something more worthy of himself. "Sire!"

Jareth startled as Hoggle's irritated voice made it through his concentration, and he looked down at the short Goblin.

'What is it Hoggle?" He smirked as the Goblin rolled his eyes, his eyes skirting from the creature to the couch angled in the corner. He could imagine a roaring fireplace on the far wall, spending lazy days curled on the couch with Harry, making sure nothing happened to him that he didn't want, ever again. It was a pipe dream, and Jareth knew he would never be able to protect the Boy Who Lived from everything and everyone that would be out to get him.

It was a nice thought anyway.

"Harry has gotten on the train. He'll be here in thirteen hours."

Jareth smiled, a content smile. Thirteen hours, how appropriate.

In little more than half a day, he would have his mate within his sphere of influence, and the Wizarding World would begin to pay for everything they had done to the one person they were supposed to protect.

And it would be his pleasure to insure that they paid double.

"Shall we introduce ourselves to the neighbors then?"

* * *

Vernon Dursley felt horrible. His head was stuffed with cotton wool, his throat felt like raw sandpaper, and he'd hacked up a lung three or four times over the last twenty four hours.

Having the flu, according to his son, sucked. Vernon found that he agreed.

He grabbed another tissue, using it and tossing it into the wastebasket full of its fellows. He was stretched out on the couch, wrapped in a robe with fluffy house shoes on his feet, hoping that his headache would give him some respite before Petunia came back with the boys in tow. He didn't think that he could face Harry, feeling like this, without the spell forcing him to do something dire. He crushed his fist around the tea mug held in his hand, only to put it down moments later, cursing as the mug burned his hand, and the doorbell rang almost simultaneously. He nursed his hand as he headed towards the door, pulling it open irritably.

He was not in the mood for this. Having the new, odd, neighbor over for a brief tea early in the morning had been enough of a visitation for the day, even with Petunia there to keep things flowing. He was simply too ill to make heads or tails of anything anyone had to say.

"May I help you? This is a very inco…" His words trailed off as he caught sight of the five uniformed men standing on his doorstep. Each one of them looked deadly in their own right, weapons in clear sight in holsters at their sides, but it wasn't the weapons that got his attention the most. It was the insignia on the uniform jackets that they wore.

Preventors.

The large man stepped aside, without another word, ushering the five Agents in.

They entered without a word, the braided one closing the door behind the group with an almost ominous click, eying him up and down.

"Vernon Dursley?" Vernon shivered, forcing himself to stand tall and not shrink back from the icy glare of the one who spoke. He may have the flu, but he was not going to look weak in front of official agents.

"Yes, Officer. May I offer you five a seat while we discuss...whatever the problem is?" He turned and shuffled back to the couch, moving his sick supplies away so that there were clear spaces for the officers to sit down without being infected, but he didn't miss the disgust on their faces, or the fact that three of them remained standing, including the one who had spoken to him. There was something...familiar, about all of the officers, like he had seen them before, maybe passing in the street, but this one. This one was like looking at someone he knew as well as he knew himself.

But he couldn't for the life of him remember who it was.

"I apologize for the mess, I have been ill with the flu for the last several days. May I ask what this is about?" He slipped into his professional mode, trying to keep himself collected for whatever they may have to say. He hoped it wasn't his family, the mere thought sending his heart racing and he collapsed in a coughing fit. No one made a move to touch him until he sat up, wiping the back of his mouth free of spittle.

As soon as he gained control of himself, the interrogation began.

"Mr. Dursley, your wife is Petunia Evans, correct?" The blond one, the most composed out of the five, started immediately, and Vernon breathed a sigh of relief that someone else had taken over the interrogation, he didn't think he could handle it.

He was frightening, and Vernon did not frighten easily.

"Yes, she is. She's not in any trouble is she?" he could feel his heart start to race again, and he fought to control it. "And Dudley? Is my son alright?"

Five pairs of eyes pinned him, and the blond one spoke again.

Vernon knew that not introducing themselves was an intimidation tactic, and it worked very very well. He didn't know if he was speaking to a lowly filing clerk, or the head of the organization themselves.

"Mr. Dursley, your son and wife are fine, I presume, though I had hoped to find your wife at home. We are here about your nephew, one Harry James Potter." There was raw emotion in the officers voice when he spoke Harry's name, but Vernon couldn't place what it was.

"What do you want to know about Harry? He's not in any trouble is he?" Harry was at that…school, for most of the year, Vernon couldn't imagine what he had gotten into that would have gotten the attention of the Preventors. They usually just handled terrorist threats, and fall out from the wars, not normal civilian matters.

The reaction to his words was immediate. All five of his visitors tensed, the one sitting across from him jumping to his feet. They seemed surprised by his words.

"Trouble?" The man was Chinese, but there was no trace of an accent, just pure determination. "You mean, Harry James Potter is alive?"

It would be a very bad thing to lie, Vernon knew that immediately, and so it was a surprise when he opened his mouth, ready to dispute that his nephew wasn't dead, couldn't be dead, dread filling his gut, it came out completely different.

"Of course he is, and good riddance too."

Pain blossomed along his jaw, his left ear beginning to ring and the world beginning to tilt on its axis. He flopped back against the bed, bringing his hand up to cradle his jaw as best he could, as he watched through blurry eyes as two of the officers wrestled the one who'd just hit him into his kitchen.

"Mr. Dursley." The blond and ice eyes were left, and the blond was the one who was speaking. The other was too busy taking Vernon apart with his eyes, looking like he knew a million ways to kill a man, and wanted to try out some of the nastier one on Vernon's person.

Vernon didn't blame him, he'd given a lie that a four year old would see through, and he had no idea how or why he did it. Harry was alive, why in the name of God would Vernon say he wasn't? Even They wouldn't make him admit that when it wasn't true.

Would they?

"Mr. Dursley!" a hand made of iron came down on his shoulder, squeezing to the point of pain, but bringing him out of his whirling thoughts. The blond was in his face now, blue eyes cold and seeing straight through him. "Why would you lie to official agents? You admitted Harry" again the odd crack of the voice on his nephews name that he couldn't figure out, "is alive. After all a corpse couldn't get in any kind of trouble, and then you point blank lie to one of my companions. You do realize we are Preventors Agents, and you can spend a long, long time in Jail for lying to a government official and concealing a crime. Now, we'll only ask one more time before you are called up on charges. Is your Nephew alive?"

Yes.

"No! That no good rotten freak is dead, has been for years."

The hand on his shoulder gripped past the point of pain, combining with the throbbing in his slowly swelling jaw to send him almost reeling towards unconsciousness. Only a sharp slap to the other side of his face brought him back, and he could only whimper as he stared at the men above him, his pride forgotten and lying on the floor.

"Mr. Dursley! We know you are lying, why will you not admit that Harry James Potter is alive? You will be saving yourself a lot of pain." Calling him up on charges seemed to be a forgotten, as they settled into good old fashioned torture to get the answers that they wanted.

It didn't matter how many times they asked the question, how many bones they broke, the answer was always the same.

"No! He's dead, dead I tell you! This is Police Brutality!"

The man who originally hit him was no where to be seen during his 'interrogation', neither was the blond once the real beating began, but the one with the long braid leaning down and whispering savagely in his ear, seeming to enjoy his pain.

'But We aren't the Police, Dursley, and I can assure you that everyone will look the other way, no matter what we do to you. No one wants to get on our bad side."

His arm was snapped underneath a ruthless foot, fingers bent and broken, but still the answer was always a lie, no matter what way they posed the question, and he could not get his vocal cords to cooperate with what his brain told him was true.

It was the same feeling that he got when Harry was around, the inability to control his mind, his very body.

Were Wizards Responsible for this as well?

Vernon just curled up as much as his broken, flu ridden body would allow, protecting his vital areas as much as they would allow him to. Petunia would be home with the boys soon, and while he did not want any of them to see him as he was, broken and bleeding on the floor, they would be able to see with their own eyes that Harry was indeed alive, and things would be figured out.

He just hoped that he could hold on until then.

After what seemed like years, but could have been hours or even minutes, the sound of a car pulling up outside reached his ears, along with his wife's scolding voice as she lectured one or both of the boys about how to act when they saw Vernon.

The Preventors stopped, all three standing up and straightening their uniform jackets like they had not just been beating an ill civilian down to his component parts, the black of the uniforms hiding the blood stains like they didn't exist.

Vernon just closed his eyes and prayed that seeing Harry would be enough for these men, that they would not feel the need to hurt his family to prove something that was right in front of their eyes.

"Harry get the door!" With the last bit of the lecture done, the door knob began to turn, and the house as a whole held its breath.

The door came open, and Harry stepped inside, dragging his trunk behind him, his owl cage held loosely in the same hand as he juggled opening the door for his aunt and cousin. He stopped in the doorway, his mouth opening in shock as he took in the tableau in front of him.

It took him three seconds to analyze the situation, before his mouth opened and a scream poured out.

* * *

**AN-This is short, and I've had to upload it three or four times because the document manager has been giving me fits all day, but hopefully this will have fixed all of the blatant problems. The chapter is a cliffy, but will be worth it in the next chapter. I couldn't keep dragging it on, or it wouldn't end for another 7000 words haha. Harry will be fully in the next chapter, which I almost have planned out, but this is the last background chapter, i can almost promise.**

**Enjoy, and read and review!**

**S**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN-This is, now, the ONLY fanfiction I am working on. Its only thanks to my beta, and the awesome reviews I'm getting for this story, that have kept me working on it. **

**FOR THE RECORD: I HAVE NEVER PLAGIARIZED IN MY LIFE. I use plot bunnies, given to me by other authors, on occasion, like this one. Which is from Ammie Hawk, who has her own version of this. SOOO, to that Certain reviewer, who knows very well who he is, this is NOT a plagiarized story! **

**Also, this is dedicated to the Lovely Mabidiso, who's review gave me some motivation to get this story updated again. Thanks a ton for all awesome reviews! **

**And thanks to the rest of you amazing reviews, just letting me know you enjoyed it, made me amazingly happy. I'm glad this story is being enjoyed by someone.**

**Disclaimer-I OWN NOTHING! All recognizable characters and situations are property of their original owners, who are not me unfortunately.**

**Now that is done, on with the chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Four

He didn't know what to do. There were no mission guidelines, no probability percentages of success or failure, nothing had he had to do to complete this mission. There were no life experiences that he could pull off of either, just a big blank during the most important moment of his life.

Heero stood there, staring blankly, as the rest of the pilots banged ineffectively on the barrier, a barrier that shouldn't exist, that surrounded their sobbing son. He couldn't move, his feet felt glued to the floor, ignoring his commands for the first time that he could remember.

The Dursleys were just as distraught, the wife not knowing if she should be more concerned about her now unconscious husband, or her hysterical nephew, settling for standing in between the two like a helpless butterfly, though she didn't attempt to touch either of them, keeping her overweight son tucked close to her side, never mind the fact that he was old enough to face life, and this situation, by himself.

Heero could now understand that feeling, he thought absently as he sank down to the floor to observe the treasure that was just out of his reach, his legs unable to support his weight any longer.

The Boy had his messy hair, he could tell right off the bat as his eyes began to soak in the details that he could see, hungrily. It stuck up in all directions, probably just as untamable as his own chocolate locks. The color was all Wufei's, dark as pitch with a glint of color that keep it looking glossy, not drab, and he imagined that it was just as silky. From what he had seen in the brief glance that they had had of his face, Duo reflected there. The build was all Quatre's, slight but able to deliver punishing blows if the need arose, though if he was anything like the Arabian, violence would be a last resort.

And the eyes. The Eyes were all Trowa's, down to the last specks, and the ability to pierce your soul with a glance, and find you wanting. Heero's breath had caught in his throat when those eyes landed on him, widening in horror as their owner took in the bloodshed in front of him.

He was a perfect blending of all of them, and the most important thing they had ever done and ever would do, even if it hadn't been willingly or knowingly. that didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that he was alive, and he was just in front of them.

They could find out which traits were their, and which traits were purely his later, now they had to calm him down before the shield turned inwards and hurt him. If it could. They didn't know anything about the shield, it could be weapon or defense, but none of them were going to take any chances with their son, anymore than they already had anyway.

Heero crept forward, trying to look as non intimidating as possible, ignoring the quiet that swept the room as he moved closer and closer to the barrier, the others moving back to give him room. He stopped a hairs breadth from touching the barrier, his knees close enough to skim it as he settled into a comfortable position, just waiting patiently. He had a lifetime, and he would wait in this spot until Harry looked up.

It was almost an hour later, that the screams and sobs quieted down, collapsing into small gasps and shaking shoulders. And still Heero sat exactly where he was, ignoring the others who came towards him with a glass, until they slunk away again. Harry had still not looked up from his bent knees, and so his mission was not yet complete.

That was more than Heero could take. He would not fail, failure was not an option, and so he reached out, telling himself that the hand that moved was no shaking, couldn't be shaking, laying it gently against the barrier, fighting every instinct not to try and beat through it like the others had. They hadn't gotten very far, and he had no information that would say he would fare any better.

he just rested it there, his eyes fixed on the now silent ball of misery.

'Look at me kid.' he bent his every through to Harry, trying to get his head to lift, to just let them see he was still sane and whole, that they hadn't broken him before they ever knew him.

And it worked. Heero knew it wasn't his thoughts that did it, no one was telepathic, but his silent presence must have gotten through to the boy somehow.

harry slowly lifted his head off of his knees, big green eyes teary and red-rimmed, but still the best thing Heero had ever laid eyes on. He felt a steal band clench around his heart at the thought of his son's pain, but kept it locked away. They had already made such a bad impression on him, acting like hysterical women wouldn't endear them to the boy.

Harry just stared at him, and the hand that pressed against the barrier that still separated them. The skin of his forehead wrinkled, Heero squashed down the thought that said it was a cute wrinkle, seemingly confused as to why everyone was staring at him.

Prussian Blue met Emerald Green solidly for a few seconds, before Heero felt a body move up behind him, and he tensed, ready to spring. Everyone in the room was a potential enemy, even his brothers who he knew wouldn't hurt the boy for anything on Earth. It was just instinct.

"Harry. Let It Go." Heero didn't take his eyes off of Harry as Petunia spoke, her voice strangely calm.

harry slowly shook his head, his eyes flitting to the still unconscious form of his Uncle. His eyes were still frightened, becoming more so by the moment as he took in the figures that were scattered around his Living Room. Heero could see the look of remembrance coming into his eyes, as he remembered the scene he'd come into when he'd opened the door. He shrank back against the wall, again, his head heading back down towards his knees, and Heero couldn't stomach that thought again.

"Please don't." It was soft, his voice breaking on the last word, though he would deny it to his last living breath. His programming couldn't keep up with the emotions and stimulus that he was being hit with from every side, and he felt his sanity beginning to unthread bit by bit, but his words got the attention of who it was supposed to.

Harry's head jerked back up, his eyes wide with surprise, flinching back as if struck when he caught site of the look on Heero's face. He began to shake his head rapidly from side to side, his body starting to convulse as adrenaline flooded his system. His breathing accelerated, showing classic signs of hyperventilation, his face draining of blood as his body fought to control his breathing.

The room erupted into noise for a second time, as they started to fight against the shield, that was now pulsing outwards. It became opaque, causing panic to course through the room as Harry's form was completely obscured from their view. Heero was pushed back to be with the others, climbing to his feet when the movement of the shield finally stopped, sending out a strong pulse whenever one of them stepped towards it.

Duo summed up their situation, in his normal, too blunt, way.

"Fuck."

The room stood motionless to the outside observer, but one who knew the pilots well could see the small twitches that gave away their tension and desire to act. Something the shield seemed to pick up on as well, pulsing stronger and stronger with each small movement until they were all pressed against the wall, except for Vernon Dursley who had been absorbed by the shield as if he wasn't even there.

'What do we do mum?" Dudley Dursley broke the silence, clutching at his mother. He seemed especially scared of the shield, though he was doing his best to try and hide it. Heero's opinion of the child went up a few notches.

"I...I don't know Dudley." The woman's voice was dead, her consciousness retreating behind a wall to protect herself. Heero had seen enough civilians doing it during the war to recognize it right off the bat. She would walk, she would talk, but the real Petunia Evans Dursley was no longer there.

Seeing her nephew in a shield that no one could breech, her husband beat to a motionless pulp by members of the law, and her son in possible danger, that she just couldn't cope.

Whether she came back from it, or not, only time could tell. No doctors in the ESUN had ever found a cure for the condition, psychiatrists only had a 3% success rate in bringing the patients back when they weren't ready to come back, and so there was nothing that they could do. When this was all over, Petunia would have to be hospitalized to prevent harm to those around her from her absent personality, and the rest of the Dursleys would be left to cope as they could. Heero supposed that normal humans would feel bad about that, but his only priority was Harry.

He was all that mattered, and he was sure that the rest of the pilots would agree with him.

KNOCK KNOCK

Petunia moved woodenly towards the door, stepping around the trained killers in her house like she no longer saw them. In all probability she she didn't even see them anymore. Her only driving force was too keep her world stable and from falling apart.

She pulled the door open in a jerky movement, plastering her best housewife smile on her face, and greeting the visitor without any indication that anything was wrong inside the house.

"Hello Mr King! It's so good to see you, but I'm afraid that this is not a good time."

There was no response from the guest, only a gloved hand pushing her gently aside and stepped inside the house without so much as a by your leave. His eyes, mismatched and strange, skipping smoothly from one angry face to the next, ignoring the angry preventor's agents as if he didn't even see them, and landing squarely on the shield, an eyebrow raising and a self satisfied smirk appearing as he took in the golden glow.

"Powerful indeed. And this strong, on fear alone? Imagine the Power if he meant to do this." He moved to put a hand on the shield, but stopped at the sound of clicking.

The stranger turned slowly, allowing two figures to slide in between him and the last known position of Harry's, leaving the stranger circled in a ring of guns.

He just laughed, seemingly delighted.

"Well we are protective, now aren't we? Good. That makes me less likely to do something we would both regret." He moved towards the couch, sitting down on it and crossing a leg, tapping it along to a beat that no one else could hear. "Put those away children. And you may just get some answers about your son."

* * *

Dr. M skulked down the corridor, ducking into dark corners when the voices of soldiers reached his ears. He waited, each time, until the voices moved on, to continue on his way. He needed these mindless bullies, for his own intents and purposes, after all he had to have a war to pit his creation against, to prove that the child was far greater than the sum of the father's, and so he had to put up with them until that was accomplished. Until he could push his puzzle pieces into the correct places, create the right situations and problems, he couldn't spare the time and the suspicion that would come from pointless questioning about him being on a deck that he technically didn't have the clearance to be on.

M ducked around the last corner, and stepped into section Z, straightening from his slinked, semi crouched, position when he was far enough from the exit to not be suspicious, twirling over the information he'd gathered in his mind.

He wasn't sure, exactly, if it was good or bad news, but at least it was news of some sort. He'd had previous little of either over the years since his creation had disappeared.

But THEY weren't supposed to find him first. That messed up every plan he had laid to deal with the boy when he was found. If they taught him, made him think that he had a life all his own, past what fourteen years on the outside had already give him, it would be much harder to beat his true purpose into him.

M's hand clenched into fists at his side when he thought of what his creation was thinking.

He, IT, wasn't supposed to think. Period. The only thing in his head was supposed to be the training M would give him, and his orders. He wasn't supposed to think, wasn't supposed to feel, all he was supposed to do was follow orders. M's orders to be exact.

M had created him, engineered him, owned him. The Doctor didn't care what genetics said, what the law would say once they found out what had gone on, the Potter boy was his to do with as he pleased.

Anything else was unacceptable, and he was not going to allow it.

M would just have to come up with a plan to reprogram the boy when the time came.

And it would come soon.

He passed the hanger door, taking a moment to peer in and examine his greatest triumph.

Ravage was everything his brother Gundams were, and then more. M had toiled for years, picking and choosing the best elements from the previous plans, fitting them into the frame like a puzzle.

It had been frustrating work, slow and torturous at the beginning once he no longer had the resources the other Dr's had been able to pull from. The Gundanium had been especially hard for him to acquire at first. The sources that the others had used, had long since dried up, and he'd had to use an old, abandoned frame, the others had once considered for Wing.

It stung his pride, but out of all the previous gundams, Wing was by far the superior specimen, so it stood to reason that he not complain too much.

Besides, his alterations were enough to correct the inherent failures in the system.

Ravage would be unbeatable, undefeatable, a fearsome force that would strike awe and terror into the public.

M continued on his way, satisfied in Ravage even if he wasn't satisfied in its pilot.

A few more nudges, a push or two here and there, and things would be ready to go.

Content in that thought, M waited for the door to his quarters to slide open, cursing under his breath as the old circuits took a minute to recognize that someone was there waiting for entrance. He didn't know if he was placed in the oldest section of the base, or if it was just a general malfunction that affected the whole base, but either way it was irritating.

When they finally whirred open, M let out a cry of outrage.

"How the Hell did you get in?" The two women sitting in this common room just smiled, setting tea cups he knew he didn't own, down on a table he'd never seen before. He made no motion to step into the room. M had no doubts that his superiors would send people in to shake him up, make him jumpy. They needed him too much to outright challenge him, but that didn't spare him from their little power games.

"Stop being silly M, and come in. You're letting the draft in. It's already cold enough." The portly woman was the first to speak, her flyaway hair grey streaked and pulled back into a bun on the back of her head, hair still escaping the order she tried to tame it with.

M stepped slowly into the room, waiting for the door to slide shut behind him.

It did so, sluggishly, and with a grating whine that had him shooting a look over his shoulder as the sound shot into his ear drum, causing him to wince

As soon as he found out what this was all about, and why this...women, were taking up his room, he would have to get the maintenance department down here, ASAP. They weren't going to tell him it was nothing this time, they were going to take the circuitry about until they found exactly what the problem was and fixed it, once and for all. He put up with a lot of things on this second rate base, but he was not going to tolerate malfunctioning machinery any longer.

Not when the next thing that malfunctioned could be a part working on Ravage.

That was unacceptable.

'Sit. Down. Michaels. We will not ask you again.' The second woman gave a pointed look at the sofa across from them, the threat in her voice coming through clearly..and very intimidating, despite the rather hilarious getup she had clothed herself in.

Seriously, who wore a scarf and sunglasses big enough to hide her entire face, inside? Especially on a colony, where the sunlight was never bright enough, or produced enough of a glare, to make sunglasses practical?

He sat.

'Good choice, Dr. Michaels. Or do you prefer just Dr. M? I think that's what you...Gundam builders, refer to yourselves as? Just a letter?'

M blinked.

'How did you know that? No one knows that! Except for those other bastards, and they're all dead!' He didn't mention the pilots. Old habits died hard, and though he hated those children soldiers almost as much as he hated their creators, it wasn't in his programming to let classified information slip to unknown elements.

Now, if they were useful, then it became a whole new ball game, to use an antiquated term.

Until then, he would keep his secrets close and to himself.

'How we know doesn't matter. All that matters, is that we know. And we also know, about your lovely little experiment. Got away from you, has he?' Her smile was cruel, cold, and more knowing than he liked to think about. 'That must be causing you all sorts of trouble.' She smirked at him, shooting a sharp, knife edged look at her companion when the woman snorted sarcastically.

'All that boy does is cause trouble. He lives for it, doesn't care whoever and whatever he stomps on to cause his mayhem.' there was deep distrust, dislike, and grief in the womans voice, a bleak look that that did not seem to belong on her seemingly jovial face. 'He needs to be taken in hand. Albus should have handle that long ago, but he left it too long, and now we're having to handle it.' She seemed mutinous, and M almost had a twinge of regret for the hell that this...Albus, person was going to go through, if the woman ever got the chance to express just how upset she was with him.

Speaking of...

'Just who the hell are you two? You seem to know me, but I don't know you!' he looked from one to the other, not liking the way they looked at him and immediately discarded him as nothing more than a means to an end.

'Oh! How rude of us!' the portly woman jumped, her hands fluttering up to her head and patting down her hair, flustered. "I don't know what you must think of us!' The British Accent came through stronger and more clearly, causing her words to be nearly undiscernible. 'I'm Professor Pomona Sprout, I'm the instructor of Herbology at Hogwarts School of Wit..' She cut off abruptly as her companion gave her a sharp kick in the leg, rolling her eyes as Sprout leaned over and rubbed at the offended limb.

'Ignore Pomona, she gets carried away sometimes. My name is...Meghan. I'm just a good Samaritan...interested in helping both of you.' She gave him a smile, the sunglasses catching the over head light and sparkling at him.

'Meghan? Why do I get the idea that that is not, in fact, your real name?" M could play the double talk game as well as anyone else. If these women thought that they were just going to be able to walk all over him, getting what they want by using him as a little pawn and waving his dreams in his face, they were going to be heavily surprised when it was all over.

He was no fool, and he was not going to be used as a tool.

No way, no how.

'Because it isn't." her blunt acknowledgement staggered him. 'But I'm no Fool, Dr. M. We both have our reasons for...cooperating. You keep your secrets, I'll keep mine, and we'll work together just fine.'

He studied her carefully, judging, weighing. He should, for many, many reasons, be shoving them both out on their asses and not looking twice as the door closed on them, going back to his own machinations and plans. M didn't have the time, patience, or resources, to cooperate with anyone, on anything.

His plans took precedence.

But he still found himself asking the question, cursing himself as he did.

'What, exactly, is our common goal? You know so much about me, and my...project, apparently, certainly you can answer that one question?' He put as much scorn into his question as possible, wanting to make it very clear just what he thought of their proposal and their invasion of his private quarters. He'd made scorn and sarcasm the study of a lifetime, and counted himself quite good at it.

Pomona Sprout, professor, what ever she wanted herself referred to as, just spluttered at his rudeness and presumption.

'Well I never! The nerve of young people these days!' the rest was lost in the chuckle of from Meghan.

She looked at him, and he got the distinct impression that she was amused by him. He did not like her Sunglasses, it lessened his ability to read her.

And that made her dangerous. Very Dangerous. He didn't know how she would react to anything, from a cough to a scream, and that kept his options for dealing with her low.

Very Very Low.

'That's why I like you, Doctor Michaels, you don't take anything at face value. Our Common goal, as you say, is Harry James Potter.'

M's jaw dropped to his feet.

They knew about Harry? If they knew about his pilot, even down to his civilian name, then they knew everything.

Had he gotten sloppy? Where were the clues that he'd left? He was sure that he'd destroyed any and all evidence, even down to destroying his old office on the surface of L4.

If these two, unknown women, could find that most closely guarded of information, than anyone could.

Maybe the others already knew, and that's why Harry had been found by them before M had had a chance to grab him.

He just glared.

"Oh don't look so glum, Doctor. You want to train Harry, for what ever purpose, and that's all right with us. We just want him...out of the way. Permanently. Too many plans have gone wrong because of that little boy, and we cannot afford him getting another innocent civilian killed for no reason. You can stop that.' She was cultured, and perfectly reasonable, and M found himself relaxing back into the couch, even taking the tea that she offered him with a hand that he swore wasn't shaking.

'Go on.'

She did, and by the time she was finished outlining her plan, he was smiling, satisfied.

This was going to go better than he had ever dreamed it was, and if everything went correctly, he would need these military goons for a lot less time than he had originally hoped.

Things couldn't get better.

* * *

'Good Morning Dolores.' Minister of Magic for the British Empire, Cornelius K Fudge, had never been in a better mood. The sun was shining, the ministry was moving smoothly, the Magical Public had never supported him more, and Harry J. Potter was about to be nothing more than a memory of political threat.

Everything was going better than he could have ever dreamed.

'Good Morning Minister. We have a slight...problem.' Cornelius stopped his tracks, transferring his coffee to his left hand a he turned to look at his undersecretary.

That...was not what he wanted to hear. Dolores Umbridge handled and assisted on only his most sensitive plans and projects, including the ones that would kill his career dead in the water if they ever got out to the wizarding public as a whole. For her to say that there was a problem meant that he was going to get a very big headache, very very soon.

He only hoped that it was one of his...more minor, large projects.

But, looking at the serious expression on his toadies toad like face, he could tell that it wasn't.

And he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly which one it was. The short, blond woman just stood from her desk outside his office, and passed over a file, opening his door for him as he stumbled in, taking the coffee and briefcase that were clutched tightly in his hands away from him in a smooth motion that was very well practiced.

He was sad to admit that this scene happened way more than he was comfortable admitting. For all of his schemes, not many of them went to plan.

He opened the file as he sank down into his desk chair, a wave of Dolores's wand lighting the candles and fireplace around him.

He just stared at what he saw.

'How long?' if it was too long, then there was nothing they could do, and his plan was gone to hell. There was only a certain amount of time that he, as Minister of Magic, could act on a declaration like this, and if it was passed that mile marker, it was over, until the person in question took it back.

'Almost 24 hours. We haven't even figured out how he knew about this particular ritual.' She sat down in front of him, crossing her ankles primly. 'I've already contacted Gringotts.'

Fudge's head snapped up, eyes boring into hers. This was it, if Gringotts had already acted, then all was lost. The Goblin run bank was never swayed by anything the ministry had to say. Not money, not intrigue, not even the knowledge that they were doing what their ministry wanted.

Nothing. Their morals were too high for that, and besides, they never acted without their king's, direct, approval. Especially when it came to matters of state. And this, considering who it concerned, was assuredly a matter of state.

'And?' Please, Merlin and Merciful Zeus, let this not be too far gone. He still had a few hours to correct it, but if the bank had already acted, it was over. Money still ruled all, like it or not. He just hoped that today was his lucky day.

'The accounts have already been locked. They will not release them until both the...brat' she scowled and spat the title. Dolores had never been able to force herself to say...his...name. Said the mere thought of it left a nasty taste in her mouth.' until both the brat and their king declare the ritual null and void'

The file fell from Cornelius's suddenly lax fingers, and thudded onto the desk. He leaned back in his chair, his mind whirling away over all the consequences that were going to be thrown on his head because of one childish Lord's childish actions. And the Goblin's silly, outdated morals, would require that they audit each and every knut, galleon and sickle that left each vault that was associated with the owner's name, to make sure that everything was accounted for, until the Lord in question decided to come back.

That, was going to be a disaster. They had dodged a bullet before now, ever since that suppressing spell had given out for the millisecond that it took the King to feel what they had been blocking since the day the boy came into his inheritance.

And then the meeting at Gringotts, they had been lucky again that he had left the Bank before the King arrived.

The bullet, a muggle term that he was quite fond of these days, had finally caught up with them, and most of his plans were about to come crashing down.

He looked up at Dolores, failure written on his face, before taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter, fortifying himself.

If Harry James Bloody Potter wanted to renounce the Wizarding World and want nothing more to do with them, that was fine.

But Cornelius K Fudge was still the Minister of Magic of Great Britain, the Isles and all her Majesty's Empire, and that still meant something. The Boy Who Lived to Abandon may be about to trounce him in the public eye, but Cornelius was not going to go down without a fight.

'Dolores, call a press conference. We are going to take this to them, before he can bring them to us.' He stood up and marched out of the office with his dignity intact, already mentally composing a calm, professional, entirely false diatribe to present to the press corps, vilifying any and all comments and explanations made by the Boy Who Lived.

When Fudge was done, Harry Potter would be nothing but a smear on the pages of history, a footnote that historians ignored in favor of the bigger, brighter star of the age, that was Cornelius himself.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all. It was all about damage control.

* * *

**AN-This chapter hasn't been betaed, because I'm anxious to get it posted now that its finally finished. Its slightly choppy, but makes some important points. And the vilians begin to make thier appearance! Yay! My spellchecker has died, so I've had to use an online one. What ever mistakes are left, are entirely my own, and I will fix them as soon as possible.**

**Happy reading!**

**S**


	5. Chapter 5 Part One

**AN-Here's the next chapter. **

**Disclaimer-I still own nothing, and make no profit off of my use of any recognizable characters. I claim no ownership of any copyrighted material.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed.**

* * *

**Chapter Five Part One**

Ron Weasley was enjoying his favorite activity, eating breakfast and large amounts of it, when he saw the back of the newspaper his brother Percy was reading.

The Redhead put his fork down slowly, his brown eyes narrowing as he reread the Headline on the front page.

That couldn't be right. He would have said something. Wouldn't he? He was Ron's best friend! They told each other everything, even though they were in different Houses. It was just..unbelievable, for him not to know.

But there it was, in blaring black letters, a picture of Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge standing at a floating podium, his hand raised with a finger pointing towards the sky.

**Harry Potter Leaves Wizarding World! Has the Boy Who Lived Abandoned Us?**

**By Rita Skeeter**

Ron sat back in his chair, his eyes focusing on nothing, as he thought.

Surely this was a joke, right? He'd seen Harry yesterday as they got off the train, Harry hadn't seemed different at all. The same old, normal, entirely too studious, Ravenclaw. They'd joked, shared chocolate frogs, and annoyed Draco Bloody Malfoy just as they always did.

If Harry was a little more melancholy, a little quieter, a little slower to laugh at the jokes, Ron had chalked it all up to

Why, then, was Rita Skeeter claiming that Harry had gone? Harry was the boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, he couldn't leave them alone to fend for themselves.

Voldemort was back, Harry had seen him resurrected with his own eyes, had been a part, albeit unwilling, of that resurrection.

It was his duty to take care of that monster for a second time, so that they could all live in peace.

Had Ron really underestimated his friend for all these years? It was true, Harry as a Ravenclaw and they weren't known for their bravery, only for their smarts, but he was the son of two Gryffindor's. Surely that should have given him some bravery.

Right?

He didn't know. So he did what any confused fifteen year would do when confronted with a situation that he didn't understand.

He asked his mother. He turned around in his seat, draping his arm over the back and cocking his head slightly to the side. His mother, Molly Weasley, was still bustling around the kitchen, finishing breakfast for the entire house, humming a happy song at having all of her family under one roof. Ron knew his mother well, he had been nearly attached to her hip until the year he went to Hogwarts, and thought that if anyone would know what was going through Harry's head, it would be her.

'Mum?' he hated the way his voice was still changing, grimacing as it broke into an octave too high for a half-grown man, and waited for her to notice him. He knew, from many long years of experience, that give her a little time, she would get to you after the first asking. She just finished what she was doing unless it was an emergency. She gave the pot on the stove one last stir with her wand, and turned to face him, a smile on her face as she shoved the wand haphazardly into her apron.

'Yes Ronald?' only she could say Ronald, and not having him grinding his teeth and ready to fight. The smile she gave him said she knew it too, but what could he do? She was his mum.

'Why did Harry do it?' It was a quiet question, but struck the air like an atom bomb, Molly's face crumbling as she heard the broken tone in her youngest son's voice. Harry Potter, while he had been the savior to every once else, the boy destined to save them from the monster under their beds.

But to her son, he was nothing more and nothing less than his best friend. The first friend the youngest of her son's had ever had.

And she didn't know how to explain to him that sometimes, people didn't want to live up to their responsibilities, thought that they didn't have to contribute, just live life like there was nothing wrong.

And when those people, were people like Harry James Potter, the ordinary citizens, like her Ronald, got hurt when they walked away.

Looking at Ron, she gathered her thoughts, and explained it the best she could, wishing that he could have stayed looking at the world through Rose colored glasses like the rest of his class mates.

But it wasn't meant to be.

He would have to grow up, the rest of his childhood overshadowed by the same monster that her oldest' had been, and he would have to face that shadow, head on, like the gryffindor he was, when it wasn't his job.

Harry Potter would come back, one day, no one could leave the world of Magic behind for long, it called to their soul like a siren's song until they returned home, and then he would have a lot to answer for.

Until that point, they would just have to shoulder on, doing the best they can at something that wasn't their responsibility.

There was no other thing for it.

'Chin Up Ronald. He'll be back, eventually, you'll see. And you'll just have to sure he understands ho wrong he was, when he does, won't you?" Her freckle faced boy nodded, bringing a hand up to wipe away the tears that had fallen without his permission, giving a side ways glace at her middle child, who was looking at them over the top of his newspaper, but not saying anything. She was glad for it, Percy spoke his mind, totally and completely, and was some times surprised with how his words were taken. Even he seemed to know that this was not the time for one of his self righteous little speeches, and kept himself out of sight. "Until then, I don't want to see any of this moping. There's a war about to start, and there'll be enough moping around during that.' She smacked him lightly with the dishtowel. 'Now, I'm sure one of your brothers will be around, wanting to play quidditch or the like. Shoo!' Ron stood up, like she knew he would, and quickly moved away from the table, returning a few seconds later to cram a few more slices of bacon into his mouth and a bit of toast, before racing up the stairs, calling for Charlie.

She and Percy exchanged a long suffering but fond look, before they both went back to what they were doing before, the kitchen soon filling with the sound of sizzling food and humming, a counterpoint to the slow turn of newspaper pages.

But while both were occupied with other things, only one thought was going through their minds.

What was Harry Bloody Potter thinking?

* * *

Professor Fillius Flitwick considered himself an even tempered man. He was a Ravenclaw, and prided himself on looking at things logically, no matter the emotional impact they placed on him a first glance. He was a Ravenclaw to the core, taking everything in stride, including things that he would never have seen coming in a million and one years.

He was still ashamed at his first meeting with his most famous, for lack of a better term, raven, the memory of himself toppling backwards off his stool during his introductory speech to the new First Years.

While he picked himself up off the floor, the little boy with Lily Potter's eyes had just stared up at him, completely confused as to why every one had had that reaction upon meeting him. From that one, inglorious, meeting, Harry Potter had become one of his favorite Ravenclaws, even though he despaired to knock some of the more...Gryffindorishly brave tendencies out of the little boy.

He was sure that he had gained half a head of gray hairs during the whole Philosopher's Stone episode.

Not to mention the TriWizard Tournament. That incident still had him reaching for the Elvish Brandy that was always tucked safely away under every one of the desks that he used. That had been a clusterfuck of epic proportions, to use a muggle term. He still couldn't look Sprout in the eye, even though he knew it wasn't his Raven's fault that Cedric had met his demise. Losing a student was a hard blow to every teacher, especially a teacher who was as close to her students as Pomona Sprout was.

Flitwick resisted the urge to drink again, biting the inside of his cheek until the urge passed, and reached for the newspaper instead, intending to lose himself in the mindless ramblings of the humans that passed for reporters in Britain, before the paper fell from suddenly nerveless fingers as he read the front page headlines.

No.

This hadn't happened.

He hadn't lost a student, to death, transfer, or voluntary exodus, since he took over as Head of Ravenclaw house over forty years previous.

This simply couldn't happen.

Flitwick shoved back from the table, striding away as fast as his short legs could carry him, cursing, and not for the first time, that the anti apparition wards that kept others from apparating in, kept anyone from apparating from place to place in the school.

Which meant he was running the whole way to the Headmasters office.

If anyone knew what was going on, it would be Albus. He took far too much of an interest in Harry Potter, and there was nothing that the boy did, thought, or dreamed that the Headmaster didn't know. So far, it hadn't lead to anything other than a few tests, a prod in the direction that the headmaster wanted the boy to go, and so Flitwick didn't interfere.

When it came to Snape, however, the half dwarf thought to himself as he took a right turn, thankfully that it was Summer and none of the students were in residence to see his rather ungraceful trek through the castle, Snape got away with his treatment of Harry exactly once. McGonagall may allow that greasy dungeon dweller to treat her lions like he wanted, some sort of bravery test or way to toughen them up, but Flitwick wouldn't allow it, especially not of a child who had done nothing to gain that hatred except being born. Snape had left their conference, shaking in his little boots and very much reminded of why Flitwick was not to be underestimated.

Fillius would admit that he took a little bit of pleasure from taking Severus Snape down a peg. The boy had been a pain in the backside during his school days, and nothing had changed since his employment.

'Bubblegum Candy Sticks' Fillius spat out the utterly ridiculous password, and the gargoyle guarding the door leapt aside, snapping back into place as soon as his feet were firmly on the winding staircase, moving up them rapidly.

He didn't bother knocking on the door, instead pushing it open without waiting for Dumbledore to even acknowledge that he was waiting outside.

This was too important.

'Fillius! Is something wrong?' Dumbledore stood up from his desk at his Charms professor's rapid entrance, his face concerned. Filius was the most composed of his professors, and to see the tiny man in a fit of emotion made him think the worst.

Had death Eaters gotten into the castle?

Had the diadem resurfaced and an unlucky student took it home for the Summer?

Filius merely stepped forward and turned the paper sitting on the headmaster's desk over, dropping with a thud into the chair in front of the desk, waving his hand absentmindedly to re-size it to fit his short frame. He may be small, but he was not going to face his employer like he was a child waiting to be scolded for skipping a detention. Dumbledore just looked down and sighed, sinking into his chair as well, seeming every one of his 249 years.

'Oh. That.' Fillius snorted. Trust Albus to utterly under speak a situation, even one so dire as this.

'yes. That, Albus!' He twitched agitatedly, bouncing his left foot against the leg of the chair. 'Did you know?' If Albus had known how Harry felt, and had not given Fillius a chance to reach his student before a decision like this was made, then he may as well give his resignation right now, because he couldn't do his job if the Headmaster was holding secrets like this from him.

Albus stared him down, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

'I can assure you, Fillius, that I had no idea. If I did, I certainly would have stopped him before he doomed us all.' Albus seemed disturbed, angry, more off balance than Fillius had ever seen him.

It was disturbing. Albus Dumbledore had always had a level head on his shoulders, keeping his calm even while the Death Eaters were advancing upon them like the Black Death.

To see him rattled, by a fifth year, was...not something he ever wanted to do again.

'Surely its not that bad, Albus? He's not even fifteen, an oath like this shouldn't even be fully in effect, unless his legal guardians approve of it.' A vow like the one Harry took was only done in very, very, rare circumstances, and if it was done correctly, it didn't take hold.

For Harry to have known exactly what to say, how to say it, and how to get his guardians to allow him to, he had to have outside help. And that was a sobering thought. The person that would help their savior leave the wizarding World, unable to return until the terms of his vow were complete or he rescinded them, would have to be on the side of the Dark. No one who was affiliated with the Light would have helped the Boy leave, no matter how unfair it was to the child to have the worries of a whole community on his shoulders.

People were born with responsibility, and it was a horrible thing, but that was life. You either stood strong under your burden, and rose above it, or you ran from it for the rest of your life.

It seemed Harry had chosen his path.

'I'm afraid that is has already taken effect, Gringotts has closed all of the Potter vaults, including the ones that were set aside for others, including Remus Lupin.' Dumbledore's voice was sad, as he talked about one of his favorite Gryffindors. 'However he found out about the vow, he did it correctly, and there is no going back. For now anyway.' he smiled suddenly, the twinkle coming back to his eyes as he sat back suddenly, crossing his hands over his stomach in a self satisfied way.

Fillius was afraid of that look. When Albus Wulfric Percivel Dumbledore got that look in his eyes, it spelled trouble for whoever was on the other side of that plot, but it usually ended well for someone.

Usually Dumbledore himself.

'I assume you have a plan?' He really didn't want to know, preferring to head back to his office and the Brandy that was waiting, but resigned himself to waiting and finding out if there was even a little bit of a threat to Harry. While he was disappointed in the boy, wishing that he would have stayed around and allowed others to help him shoulder his burden, or at least confided in Flitwick himself, Harry was still a Raven, and he would do anything and everything within his power to protect him.

Make him understand how wrong he was for leaving, of course, but protect and support him all the same.

'Why yes I do, as a matter of fact Fillius' that smile again, and Fillius found himself fighting back a shiver. This was not going to end well for anyone but Albus in this. 'I'm going to talk to the boy. After all, it was probably just an exclamation made in anger, or shock, that happened to have taken hold at the most inopportune moment. That's all. He'll be made to see reason, and then this will all go back to the way it was written.' The old man stood up, straightening the...rather bright lime green robes around his legs, smiling happily at the pink kneazles that bounced around it.

Fillius wondered, and not for the first time, if there was something not quite right in Albus Dumbledore's head. If the greatest wizard in the world went around dressed like a four year old witch that had an obsession with cats, then it stood to reason that they, just possibly, may all be doomed.

As Dumbledore apparated away with a loud crack, showing off the fact that he, above all others, could circumvent the wards of Hogwarts, leaving Fillius to hope that the older man would be back, with his errant Raven in tow.

But while he waited, there was a bottle of Brandy with his name on it.

And if one of his coworkers found him, five hours later, singing off key Dwarven drinking songs at the top of his lungs in the middle of the Great Hall, well, that was their own fault for interrupting.

Couldn't they tell the room was occupied?

* * *

'Your Son is a Wizard.' The stranger said it simply, matter of factly, crossing one leg over the other as he sat calmly on the couch. One eye was continuously peeled towards the corner where Harry was still encased behind the shield, though his line of sight was always blocked by one of the boy's fathers, usually with a gun pointed in his face until he looked away again.

The stranger found it all amusing.

There was a laugh from the braided one, who was flipping a knife up and down calmly, catching it between a different finger every time.

'Magic? You expect us to believe magic is real? Like pulling a rabbit out of a hat? Please, that's just children stories and illusions.' There as derision in this man's voice, and a dark look on his face that didn't seem to fit from what the stranger had seen so far.

The stranger just threw his head back and laughed heartily.

'Rabbits out of hats? Please, that's just a mundane trick, illusion as you said.' He smiled, showing sharp teeth, 'What I'm talking about, is Magic.' They could all hear the capitalization of the word when he spoke it, and sat up straighter, on alert for what ever he had to say next. While they may not believe that Magic was real, it was clear that he thought that it was, and that could make him dangerous in the worst way. Insane people were always the worst to anticipate. There was no set in stone way to determine exactly what they were going to do, and that made the Pilots very very nervous.

''Magic, like what is shielding your son, can do anything and everything. It can be harnessed, controlled, bent to do your will. If She wants, that is.' an enigmatic smile, ' and your son is one of her chosen few that can half way control it on Earth.'

There was a moment of silence, before four of the pilots started chuckling. Wufei stayed silent, a contemplative look on his face as he studied the shield around the boy, his mind racing at a million miles an hour as he connected the dots carefully.

'Why should we even listen to you? We don't know who you are, as Petunia' a sardonic look at the lady of the house who sat stoically on the recliner, having not said a word since Mr. King barged his way, very rudely, into her house. She was locked away in her mind, in a place that was far removed from here. 'Hasn't even told us your name.'

Another smile, comfortable in the scrutiny, almost amused by it. It made Quatre's teeth grind.

As head of WEI it wasn't often that he was so very clearly looked down upon, and he had to admit that he did not like the feeling one bit.

But the blond stayed quiet. He didn't know everything yet, and he wasn't going to dictate how things went from here on out until he knew everything that there was to know and then some.

'Have I not introduced myself? How very...rude of me.' he smiled again, showing those same, strange, sharp teeth. 'I'm Jareth King. I moved in next door a few weeks ago.'

And that wasn't suspicious at all.

'and that makes you believable, how? We still don't know you from Tom, Dick, and Harry, and let me tell you, bub, you aren't going to change that anytime soon. Magic ain't real, and if it is, it's unnatural.' there was a look of scorn on his face, a dark look on his face that even the other pilots had never seen.

It made them wonder exactly what was going through his normally bubbly head.

'That sounds like the talk of a witch burner' Jareth's voice was cold, just this side of freezing, and it snapped Duo out of his stupor immediately, leaving him blinking as if he'd just awoken from a dream. He looked from one face to the other, squirming slightly as all the attention was on him.

'sorry, guys. I must have zoned out there for a second. What were we talking about?' he gave a blinding smile, hoping to cover up the confusion and fear that was crawling through his veins like poison.

They looked away, letting him hide for the moment, but his fellows filed it away as food for later thought. Jareth just narrowed his eyes at the braided fool, resolving to keep an eye on him. Anything that was a threat to Harry, was not to be allowed. And would be dealt with accordingly.

That braid would make a nice cord to suspend it's owner over the bog of eternal stench.

'we were discussing Magic, of course. But as you children' the pilots bristled, 'refuse to believe anything without proof, typical mundane mindset, I'll just have to have a demonstration now won't I?' he stood up, brushing his hands off as he took a step towards Harry's self created cell, reaching a Hand out to touch it, before he was slammed hard enough to the floor to clink his teeth together as he impacted. He glared up at his assailant, seeing the youngest of the five men standing over him, his foot pressed painfully into his throat. Only Jareth's wildly twitching fingers kept his goblins from taking care of their king's attacker in a very bloody, violent manner, but they held for the moment, staying unseen until they were needed.

'let me go.' it was a rasp, the shallow breathing keeping him from speaking in anything other than a whisper. 'I'm just going to get him out.' that was the wrong thing to say. The foot pressed against his throat harder, a look of absolute rage crossing over the youth's face As he cut of Jareth's air supply.

'you locked him in that thing!' the words were a hiss, and Jareth felt his skin warming slowly, most likely unnoticeable to anyone unused to cataloging every bodily reaction. He smirked, even through the pain and loss of oxygen before his own magic kept to his defense like a well trained attack dog gnawing at the bit to get to his master's attacker. The Asian youth was thrown back, to bounce harmlessly onto the couch Jareth had previously been occupying.

It looked like lily potter wasn't the only one to contribute to her son's magical prowess. Jareth climbed to his feet, straightening his clothes easily, brushing off the dirt that had collected from his harsh meeting with the ground, and turning back towards the shielded Harry, ignoring the muttering and whispered conversations from behind him.

His entire world had narrowed down to the shield in front of him, and the boy that was behind him. He had never been this close to him, had never been just an instant from reaching out and touching what had haunted his dreams for the last five years. He'd had glimpses, through the crystal he'd slipped into the boys pocket when he was but a child, reports from the few humans who were as loyal to him as the Goblins were, but it wasn't enough.

Nothing, but having Harry safe, content, and at his side, would ever be enough.

And now that was going to be a reality.

Jareth reached out a hand and pressed it against the barrier. There was a moments worth of resistance, before his magic swirled around the limb and sank into the shield, taking his hand along with it.

After a split, nano second, of thought, the rest of his body followed it, cutting off all outside sound and enveloping him in pure magic.

And what beautiful magic it was.

Jareth stood, upright in a space that should have had him on his knees, surrounded by colors and sounds, swirling around his head and around his body, whispering to him sweetly, coaxing his own magic out to play. He let it go with a smile, letting as much out as he dared without overwhelming the other. He was the King of the Underground, he didn't mean to brag but he was one of the strongest magical forces in any of the three realms, barring the Gods themselves. His sheer magical presence would overwhelm Harry, to the brink of madness, his Magic's Mate or not, leaving his Harry no more than a growth of Jareth's magic, unable to think of anything but what Jareth wanted to do.

Nothing but a pawn, and that was unacceptable.

The Goblin King made his way carefully towards the form curled up against the wall, or what passed for a wall in this magically created haven. He was sure, that in reality, there wasn't a blue wave crawling up the side of the wall, pulsing every few seconds and letting out an eerie blue light.

If there was one thing that he could say about the Mate that he hadn't gotten the chance to know yet, it would be that he certainly had the chaos part of magic down. The space he'd found himself in was nothing, if not chaotic.

Jareth sank down onto the floor, close enough to touch, but resisted the urge to lay a hand on the shivering form in front of him. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their future relationship.

But the boy couldn't stay in here forever. There was an entire world on the other side that was just waiting for him.

He could change it, change it all, and for the better.

But he had to take the first steps before he could change anything, including himself.

'Harry?' Jareth spoke softly, waiting to be acknowledged before he continued. If Harry didn't do this himself, chose to face what was out there himself, this would all be for naught.

Not that Jareth really cared, the Human and Wizarding Worlds could go to Tarturus for all he cared. As long as his realms, and Harry, survived, then he had done his duty. But, Harry cared about that world, for all his protesting and oathing that he didn't, so to let it be destroyed would be to destroy Harry.

'Who're you?' Harry had lifted his head from bent knees while Jareth was busy with his internal monologue, green eyes staring at him curiously. 'And how'd you get in here? No one can get in here.' It was said with all the assurance that the teen could muster, confident in his own magic if he was confident in nothing else. He had wanted the bubble impenetrable, and so it was.

Except to Jareth.

The King just smiled, tilting his head slightly to the side to better study the boy.

'I'm no one important, Harry Potter, just a concerned neighbor. Its time you came out.' A lie, the first in a long line, but the truth had plenty of time to come out. Right now they had other things to worry about other than how Jareth got through the magic bubble.

Magic bubble. Now that was something fun to say, Jareth snickered to himself. And slightly ironic, considering the shape his magic so loved to take.

Like the crystal that was still tucked away in Harry's back pocket, like it always was.

'I'll be the judge of that. You're not supposed to be in here, and I want answers.' Harry had fully sat up, folding his legs underneath himself and staring at Jareth like a general surveying his troops. There was a ribbon of steel written in his eyes, and Jareth knew that he was going to have to think fast to get Harry out of here, because he didn't look like he was going to leave of his own volition any time soon.

And so he started talking, making up more and more lies as he went, knowing that when they caught up to him, he would be fighting to hold on to Harry with everything he had, but hopefully that was a long time coming and they would be...he hated to think it, it sounded so corny and overdone even in his own head, but they would hopefully be in love by then, and lies like this could be forgiven and forgotten as necessary.

* * *

Duo knew that something was wrong with him. As he watched Mr. Jareth King, or whatever his real name was, press a hand against the shield and then slid through as if it wasn't even there, he felt a shudder go through his entire body as if a bucket of cold water had been poured down his back. He'd felt hints of it, slight shudders of revulsion that tried to rock him when he put a hand on the shield the first time, trying to get to his son, but he'd pushed them back. There was nothing to be repulsed at, it was just another side of technology that he'd never seen before. He was a Gundam Pilot for goodness sake, there was no reason for him to be afraid.

And he loved Technology, Deathscythe was his best, and sometimes he thought only true friend. The other pilots were brothers, true enough, and he couldn't have loved them more if they were actual blood relatives, but Deathcscythe was more. They'd been through everything from the very beginning it seemed, and he missed the mecha like he'd miss a limb once it was cut off.

So strange tech was to be embraced, and figured out, and used.

But Magic? Magic was...strange. It, if it existed, it would make things to easy, make people like him unnecessary...or too necessary. He almost closed his eyes at the thought of what would have happened if Witches had been involved in either of the Wars...even the Gundams couldn't have fought against them. Oz would have won almost without opposition.

Magic was to be feared...and destroyed.

The thought entered his head without prompting, vile, slimy words that were spoken with a honey-sweet tone. Duo felt his left fist clenching, his violet eyes focusing on the shadowy forms he could see through the shield...magic shield. Blood dripped down his palm at the thought, and he railed against the feelings it was sending through him.

That was his son. His SON, his flesh and bone. Unnatural Magic or not, it shouldn't...it wouldn't, matter.

Duo slowly unclenched his fist, flexing it to get the blood flowing again, and wincing as the cuts made themselves known. He caught Wufei looking at him from the corner of his eye, and forced a smile on his face, hoping it would be enough to fool the younger man. He couldn't force himself to tell a lie, it was against his very soul to lie, about anything. He crossed his toes and waited, his smile getting bigger as he stayed under examination.

Until Wufei shrugged and turned away, shrugging Trowa's arm closer around his shoulder and putting his eyes more firmly on the slowly shrinking sphere.

Duo forced himself to breath through it, hoping that his tension would be taken for something other than a new found bigotry towards a group that he hadn't known existed until now.

He was happy to see his son, for the first time, without fear written on his face. Of course, the boy didn't know that he was their son, but he would, very soon. And then they could be the family that they should have been from the very beginning.

As he focused on that thought, pushing everything else from his mind, shutting the voice into a dark part of his mind when it started up its whispering again, he failed to notice that not everyone had fallen for his act as easily as Wufei had, Prussian blue eyes focusing on him with single minded intensity.

Heero knew something was going on, and he wasn't going to stop until he found out what it was. Ever since they got to this house, things had been happening that shouldn't have been.

Like Vernon Dursley, for instance. It was in Heero's experience that you didn't keep telling a lie, once someone had pointed out that the lie had been found out, and that telling the truth immediately would most likely keep you from getting killed. But Vernon Dursley, from all other accounts an intelligent if not stubborn man, had continued to lie, until he was forced into unconsciousness from the beating that he took. Heero felt no regret for what he'd done to the obese man. He'd done far worse during the war, and for far less things than keeping his son from him. Vernon Dursley had brought his fate onto himself.

And then there was the shield. His brain told him it was an unknown technology, possible hostile, that seemed to be linked directly to Potter, Harry J's emotions, and physical state, in some way that had yet to be explained. It couldn't be neutralized, yet, and his mind was trying to figure out a way to get the boy out without harming him, or setting off some as yet unknown defensive measure that was probably built into the shield. He hadn't come up with a way yet, but he was sure that he would come up with a way, soon.

Not to mention the way that Harry had reacted to them when he came in the door. Heero was almost positive that it wasn't what he had found them doing to his uncle, but the three of them that had set off the extreme reaction that they'd witnessed, the state of Vernon Dursley being just a secondary concern.

Something in their bearing, or reaction, had brought up bad, possibly violent, memories in their son. And Heero would find out who, or what, had scared him to the point that the mere sight of violence resulted in such a severe reaction, and make sure that they could never do it again.

He could handle figuring out those problems. That wouldn't be a problem, at least not in the long run. He had the entire Preventors database at his fingers, and WEI's was even larger. There was nothing on this planet that he couldn't find the answer to, and destroy, given enough time to figure out all the mission parameters.

But Magic? Magic, he couldn't process. Magic, couldn't exist. He'd been trained, conditioned, to believe only in cold, hard facts, and to trust on technology.

This, this was causing his brain to almost short circuit. He couldn't wrap his analytical thinking around such an abstract concept.

If there was magic in the world, magic that could be used with and for the Preventors if 'good' magic users could be found, than what was his purpose? Why would the Commander still want him on security and Intel, if she could use a...witch? He thought the word was, to get the same results, faster, and more reliably than he could.

He was useless in this new world, and he felt his reality crumbling.

If it was true. And he had no doubts that it wasn't true..because he may not believe for the simple sake of believing, but Jareth King, real name not known, seemed to believe in it with everything that he had.

And then he stepped through the shield protecting Harry with no resistance, just walking through it like it wasn't even there and disappearing into the orange glow, to become just a shadowy form like Harry.

And Heero knew he was officially going mad.

He couldn't cope in this new world, in front of proof that he was finally, after all these years, obsolete.

What was his purpose in this new world? He had no doubts that it wasn't in the Preventors, because Une wasn't stupid. Magic users were the new Gundam pilots.

Soldiers were finally unnecessary.

As his mind whirled away, cracking like a mirror hit with a stone, his eyes landed on Duo.

Who did not look himself, in any sense of the word. An expression of deep anger and disgust was written all over his face, despite the too big smile that he'd plastered on his face to cover it for the youngest of the their comrades, and the blood dripping down his palm to spot on the floor was a clear indicator that something was wrong with pilot 02. Following his gaze, Heero saw that Duo's focus was on the shield that had protected their son, but the two shadowy forms were now stepping slowly out, the bubble disappearing the moment that Harry Potter was outside of its influence as if it had never even been there in the first place.

Heero's eyes narrowed as he took in the visibly terrified form of his son, who had shrank back against the wall, his arms wrapped around himself and his eyes refusing to land on any one person for longer than a nanosecond, especially the bloodied form of his still unconscious uncle lying on the floor.

And Duo's furious, disgusted eyes, were focused fully on his form, his injured hand fisting again. Heero recognized that look, he had seen it once before, in the few years after the War when things were in more upheaval that during the War, when Duo took out an entire squad of remnant Oz forces who had refused to surrender when the war ended, singlehandedly, when he'd found them terrorizing and murdering a group of street children for the simple reason that no one would miss them.

There had only been pieces of them left when the other pilots arrived on the scene to help, Duo standing over the carnage and blood shed with that same furious, silent, too angry for words expression on his face.

And now it was focused towards their child...and that was unacceptable.

In a moment of clarity, while the rest of his world was crumbling underneath him, Heero found his purpose, locking blue eyes onto it with single minded intensity.

Harry James Potter, if he decided to use that name that the others had come up with when they first found out about him, was his purpose. He was about to be thrown into a world that he had no idea about, the world of death threats, of having to be more than he ever thought he would have to be, and Heero would make sure he survived it. Survived everything that life had to throw at him, no matter what angle they came at him from, with a smile on his face.

Pardon the expression, but Heero, he grimaced at the mere thought, wanted to bounce grand kids on his knee one day. He knew that if he ever spoke that aloud, he would be laughed at by all the others, but he didn't care. He'd never cared what others thought of him, it wasn't in his programming.

His mind calming under the soothing thoughts of having another purpose in life, Heero stepped up behind the couch that King and Harry had settled themselves on, the boy having been coaxed into sitting down by the older man, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Harry looked up when he felt the presence of someone stepping behind them, blinking up at Heero with big green eyes, and Heero smiled at him in what he hoped was a comforting look.

By the half smile that he got in return, he wagered that he'd been at least half way successful.

'What...what about Uncle Vernon?' They'd stayed locked in that tableau for what seemed like hours,staring at each other until one of them was brave enough, or stupid enough, to speak. Heero hadn't moved from his position since he took it, staring each of them down as if they were a potential threat.

And as far as he was concerned, a few of them were.

When harry spoke, Heero admitted that he was a little surprised it was about his downed uncle. Most people would be wondering why they were there, or what had happened to him. At this point, it was foolishness to worry about the Dursley male. He would either live, or he wouldn't.

But King seemed to have a different view on the subject, studying the man with a sigh before looking down at Harry. Heero didn't like the look that was in the strange man's eyes every time they landed on the child, his hackles raising. Jareth knew more about Harry than he was letting on, and something was going on between the two of them that he didn't' want anyone to know about. And that wasn't acceptable.

He could be a threat, and all threats were to be eliminated.

'Well, I would heal him. But, and I'm embarrassed to say this, healing was never one of my strong suits. I'm afraid I can do nothing for him.' Harry's face fell, shrugging his shoulders inwards. King continued before he'd could get upset though, 'But I know someone who can. They'll take good care of him, i assure you.' He gave his finger a quick snap, and the body of Vernon Dursley disappeared as if it had never been there.

And no one moved. They just stared at him as if he just preformed a resurrection, or an execution, in the middle of a suburban living room and they were scared he would do the same to them if they so much as twitched in the wrong direction.

Oddly enough, seeing the display of magic calmed Harry down, as he let his body sink back against the couch, as much at ease as they had seen it since he walked into the house. Heero wasn't sure if it was the use of magic, or the sight of something that was seemingly familiar that put him into a comfortable situation.

King smiled, crossing his arms and legs again, studying the room with that infuriating smirk that made Heero want to shoot it off.

It would clear up some of the agitation he was feeling, and the Perfect soldier had to clench his fist to keep it from going for the gun strapped at the small of his back.

'So...next question.' Harry sat up, pulling his feet underneath him and studying the room intently. 'Who the bloody hell are all of you?'

There was a moment of silence, and then...

'Watch your language.' It came from out of nowhere, leaving Harry blinking as he stared at the blond who'd spoken. He had a serious look on his face, and seemed supremely offended by Harry's use of the word.

Harry just looked at him, his jaw dropping with his surprise.

What?

The blond just crossed his arms and leaned back confidently in his seat, staring at Harry coolly. Harry instantly disliked him. He'd never been reprimanded for cursing, and it coming from someone who he had never met before, did not set well with him.

'Excuse me?' he tried to keep his voice polite, using every inch of good manners that Aunt Petunia had beaten into him, but he knew that he hadn't succeeded in keeping the edge completely out.

The blond just smiled, and Harry wished that he knew his name so that he could refer to him as something other than the blond, it brought unpleasant reminders of Draco Malfoy to mind.

'I said, watch your language. Words like that are unnecessary.' Harry blinked again, forcing his jaw to close with a snap.

Where did this guy get off? Harry rolled his eyes and sat back, crossing his arms rebelliously and looking away. If this guy was going to treat him like a rebellious teenager, then by Merlin he was going to act like one. The rest of the day had been beyond his comprehension, from the moment he stepped on to the train to the moment he stepped into the house, not to mention the year from hell that he'd just gotten back from, that this was just another bump in the road.

A very blond, very angry bump in the road, and Harry smirked as he looked at the man out of the corner of his eye.

"Harry James Potter you will not treat your father that way!' Harry's head whipped around like it was on a wire, his mouth dropping open.

You could almost hear a pin drop in the silence that followed, as Harry tried to process what had been said.

'What?' he eventually croaked it out, trying to swallow past his suddenly dry mouth. Was this a joke?

He studied each face, noticing that the braided one looked away from him almost immediately. 'You've got to be kidding me! James Potter was my father, believe me, enough people have told me I look exactly like him!' he glared at the blond, 'So you're nothing but a liar.' he said it coldly, channeling everything he could of Snape, drawing on many many classes and detentions when he'd been subjected to that bastard of a potions teacher.

There was a cough after he finished his sentence, and he turned his head slightly, seeing the man with the weird hair style shaking his head wildly and making a slicing motion with his hand, his one visible eye wide eyed and panicked. He seemed to think that insulting the blond one wasn't a good idea.

And when Harry turned around, he could understand why. There was a cold expression on the blonde's face, and he leaned forward in the seat he was settled in, linking his hands together between his knees. He opened his mouth to speak, and Harry prepared himself for a diatribe to be let loose against him, even though he knew without a doubt that this man had been lying. He was used to people yelling at him, this would be nothing new.

'Don't you ever...' Harry's view of the blond was cut off as a figure stepped in front of him, blocking him from view, presenting Harry with a well muscled back.

'Quatre.' it was a cold voice, and Harry felt very very glad that he wasn't the one that the voice was focused on.

The blond took a deep breath, seemingly working himself into a rage, when the whole world went to hell, and took Harry along with it.

* * *

**AN-Well here's Part one of Two. Part two is well on its way, but this chapter was approaching 10K words, and I felt it would be better to cut it here and post the next of it as a separate chapter, hopefully in the next week. Any constructive criticism would be appreciated. **

**S**


	6. Authors Note

Hello Readers,

I'm sorry for the long wait between updates, and especially sorry that this in itself is not an update, but a promise.

Of a new and better Patchwork Paternal that is.

Due to being ill for the last few months, along with being absolutely crazy with work and my personal life, including an original novel in the works, I haven't been able to give this story the total attention that it deserves, and have written myself into a corner on several points due to a low attention span. Usually, I would go back, revise, and continue going, but this story is my absolute favorite that I've ever attempted, and I want to do it the justice it deserves, so I am starting on a total rewrite. The plot, for the most part will remain the same, while some new, interesting points will be added and unnecessary points removed. I hope that it will be a much more enjoyable, less chaotic, read.

I want to thank all of my readers who have stayed with me until this point, your encouragement and insights have kept me going, and I hope to see you at the new, improved, Patchwork Paternal v 2.0, as soon as it is up and running, hopefully, if all goes well, within the next week. I also hope to stick to a less chaotic updating schedule, at least one or two chapters a month.

Thank you all

SlytherinMafia


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